


Induction

by Edward King (Edward_King)



Series: The Legend of The White Deathbell [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Assassination, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 119,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edward_King/pseuds/Edward%20King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sable is the newest member of Dark Brotherhood and fancies making herself a living legend to be feared throughout all of Skyrim. Can she attain such lofty ambitions when she takes a contract to assassinate someone that can't be killed? OC is not dragonborn. Follows DB story line for a short while, but then branches out into original story. Rated M for violence. First Fanfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her lips twisted into a smile as she dragged her blade across the man's throat. A moment before he hadn't even known she was there. She had been a shadow, invisible and unknown until her hand had clamped itself over his mouth with a deceptively strong grip. Before he even had time to struggle, she had slit his throat; penetrating deep just above the larynx so he would be unable to make a sound as he bled out. She held him a moment longer before simply letting go and letting him crumple to the floor, stepping back a bit to avoid the ever growing pool of his blood.

This was the fourth such time Sable had smiled that night. Not once had one of the thugs hired as guards even known she was there; the last thing they would ever know being the brief feeling of cold steel against their necks. The smile vanished as she realized that was probably the last of them. She was closing in on her target. This mildly wealthy fool had angered Maven Black-Briar, one of the most influential people in Riften, by attempting to buy a one of the meaderies she used as a front business. Even though the idiot probably had no idea of his crime, Black-Briar would not let the insult go and so had contracted the Thieves Guild to teach him a lesson. The lesson being the planting of a stolen artifact from the local temple of Mara in his bedroom, after which the city guard would get an anonymous tip. He would likely be jailed long enough to see his small wealth slowly shrink away until he would be left impoverished.

Because of the nature of the job, Sable had been specifically instructed not to kill the target. "The target is to be left alive, lass." It was a frequent order issued to her by Brynjolf, the second in command of the guild. Sable honestly had no idea why it mattered. Weren't the goods just as valuable whether or not the mark lived through the theft? She supposed that technically if they weren't alive to experience the loss of possession then it wasn't technically theft and more likely to be considered looting. She hated technicalities though. She'd rather just kill everyone in the way and make off with the goods. This attitude that had nearly got her expelled from the guild on more than one occasion, but they couldn't argue with results and Sable had brought a lot of wealth to the guild since Brynjolf had recruited her. Maybe that's why she was on her fourth or fifth final warning. "The target is to be left alive, lass." True, but he had said nothing about the hired help.

* * *

"By the Eight, lass, you were to plant the artifact, not create a bloodbath!"

"Did I not fulfill the job?" Sable asked Brynjolf. She was more than irritated even though the conversation had just begun. She already knew the lecture she was going to get. She had been given it many times before.

"Sure you planted the loot, but the job was almost botched when the fool woke up to find his house full of bodies." Brynhjolf countered. "Whatever happened to discretion? We're thieves, not the Dark Brotherhood. With your body count, it's a wonder that they haven't already come after you for stealing some of their thunder."

"You only said the target was not to be killed. You never said anything about the dumb oafs he called personal guard." Brynjolf rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Besides, the job was still successful. In fact, I would argue that it went even better than expected when the city guard ended up accusing him of the murders. His fall was even greater. As I hear it, Maven was most pleased."

"Indeed she was, but that's not the point, lass." The big man tried to explain. "We're supposed to keep a low profile and a trail of bodies doesn't accomplish that. What happens when there are so many bodies that the guard can't be paid off anymore?"

Sable opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off. "I don't want to hear it, lass! The only reason I'm not expelling you from the guild is because Maven personally requested that I promote you and give her the opportunity to work with you again. I might have ignored such a request, but, unfortunately, Mercer agreed."

Mercer Frey? She had caught the attention of the reclusive and crotchety guildmaster? She wasn't sure she was going to be able to suppress the smile of satisfaction. Finally, it looked like she was moving up. Maybe even to a position with some power. She cherished the thought. After all, the most precious commodity was power; simple as that. She who had the power, made the rules; could do whatever they pleased with no one to stop them.

Fortunately, Brynjolf dismissed her before she was no longer able to contain herself. As soon as her face turned away, a grin stretched out across it. As she left Brynjolf's quarters, she made to find Mercer Frey immediately.

* * *

The meeting with Mercer had not gone the way Sable thought it would have. Apparently catching the attention of Frey was not always considered a good thing. He gave her much the same lecture about killing people as Brynjolf had, though unlike his second in command, the guild master didn't even try to maintain his composure. The tirade went on for a while before she could get in a word to defend herself.

"Brynjolf said that you agreed with the methods I used and how badly the merchant ended up being disgraced." She interjected nervously.

"I agree with Black-Briar being pleased." Mercer's gravelly voice seemed to only become harder to hear when he was angry. "However, I don't agree with you making it look like we're trying to put the Dark Brotherhood out of business! We're thieves, not murderers. The only reason I'm not expelling you from the guild is because Maven would be quite upset if I did."

"I'm sorry, then." Sable said. "I will be more respectful of guild rules and the directives of both you and Byrnjolf from now on." The only reason she meant it was because she didn't want to be expelled and be on her own again. It had taken her a long time to find a group to accept her in. And while she always felt that she didn't completely belong, she wasn't about to go it alone again.

"Well maybe you can actually mean it, this time!" The lord of the thieves shouted before taking a moment to calm himself. "At any rate, Maven has suggested that you be promoted. However, I don't think that someone that so flouts the rules of my guild should be rewarded."

Her countenance darkened considerably at that point and she lowered her face a bit to avoid letting Mercer see it. This fool just wanted to keep her down, same as Brynjolf.

"Still," he continued without noticing the change in his subordinate. "I can't deny you have real skill. So I'm going to make you a Special Acquirer."

Sable's gaze snapped up to her leader. "I've never heard that title before."

"It has never existed before." Mercer explained with a sly smile. "You will be the first. Don't become too pleased with yourself." He said as he saw the smile forming on her fair face. "You will report only to me and Brynjolf. You will take no job without our approval and the jobs you get will generally come with higher risk or be those that come with special instructions or unusual parameters. Because of this, we'll never know when a job requiring your attention will come along, so we'll need you to remain down here in the Cistern or the Flagon as much as possible."

"So basically, I'm awarded with getting all the sewer jobs but at the same time I must remain confined down here so you can keep an eye on me." She said, her mood becoming dark again.

A smile and dismissal from Frey was her only response. She fled the room frustrated and feeling rather unappreciated.

Sable made her way to her bed in the common area of the Cistern. The Cistern was a large circular area of the sewers beneath Riften. In the middle was an actual cistern over which four bridges, one from each side of the room, that met in the middle at a circular dais suspended over the "pond" below. Also leading away from each bridge were passageways that led to other parts of the sewer. The one she was coming from led to Mercer's quarters and the vault. To her left was the ladder that led up to the guild's secret entrance in the cemetery of Riften. Ahead of her, across the cistern, was the entrance to The Ragged Flagon – the guild's tavern. But she went to her right. In that tunnel, the training areas and barracks were found.

She didn't quite make it there before she was waylaid by young thief that called himself Flicker. Supposedly, he earned his nickname from his ability to clean out a house in the "flicker" of an eye. However, Sable was beginning to think it applied in another way. The young Imperial was so timid that she figured he would come apart at the seams if anyone so much as looked at him cross-eyed. He seemed particularly nervous on this occasion though.

"S-Sable!" he caught her attention apparently louder than he intended as he immediately flinched and looked around to make sure he hadn't gathered anyone else's. When he decided all was clear, he quickly took the couple of steps needed to close the distance between them. "Um ... hi. H-How are you doing?"

"Not great, Flicker. What do you need?" She sighed. She really just wanted to be alone for bit after the disastrous meeting with the guildmaster.

"Oh, well then … maybe I'll ask you another time, then." He wrung his hands as his gaze dropped to the floor.

"Ask me what?" She was guessing that she wouldn't like where this would go, but was curious hoping that perhaps it wasn't what she thought it was.

"What?" He startled. "Oh, well … well, the Bee and Barb was … um … well I think they make a pretty good venison stew. At least I think so anyway. Have you ever tried it?" He paused searching for some kind of reaction. "Well, I just thought that … uh … that maybe we could maybe go have some one night."

Sable managed to keep the groan from becoming audible; it was exactly what she thought it was.

"I don't think so Flicker." She had no interest in letting him down easily – even if she hadn't been in a foul mood due to the meeting she just had with Mercer Frey.

His eyes dropped back to the floor. "Oh, I see." He replied dejectedly.

She was about to just leave the newest member of the guild to do whatever he needed to do with the rejection but then curiosity overcame her suddenly and surprisingly.

"Why'd you even ask?" She inquired.

"What do you mean?" Confusion evident in his voice and the look on his face.

"What made you so interested in me?" Sable clarified.

"You're beautiful!" He blurted out. He realized it and took a moment to reign himself in. "Sorry, it's just that the first time I saw you, you took my breath away. Your white hair, your fair – very fair skin, the pale blue silver color of your eyes and light but full lips. And your voluptuous …"

"I see." She interrupted. At first his enthusiastic and unusually bold response was quite flattering, but as he got carried away, it started to become a little creepy. He was disturbingly accurate with his description. Her appearance was decidedly fair, even by Nord standards and it had always gotten her a bit more attention than she cared for, though not always friendly. And the men that did show an amorous intent towards her quickly learned to lose their interest as she had never shown any towards them.

"Well, thank you." She finally offered. "But I'm just not interested in any relationship beyond a working one."

"I … uh … I understand." He tried to put on a façade of confidence and with most people he might have succeeded, but she saw the small tell-tales of one hiding emotional pain. She was quite good at reading people, finding it yet another way to hold power. If she knew their emotional state, she could manipulate or even crush a person if needed.

Sable didn't wait for any further conversation from him. She left him and went straight to her shared room and was relieved to find that all of her roommates were not currently there. She went to the chest at the foot of her bed and, glancing around to make sure she was alone, opened it. Inside lay the only possession she valued. It was a length of high quality silk. It was a deep purple color and the fabric still retained the sheen from when it was first wove. The artist had also embroidered with gold thread depictions of flowers most closely resembling the flower heads of the deathbell. She'd had it for as long as she could remember though she did not recall how she came to possess it. Sable assumed that it had come from her mother and somehow that just seemed to feel right to her. She loved how pretty it was. She adored it and visualized how wonderful it would look tied in her white locks while she wore a beautiful gown. She longed for the day when she would be able to dress up in such pretty things, but didn't suppose it would ever happen. She was, after all, a thief, and a murderous one at that.

Sable sighed and hid the ribbon back in her chest and laid down to get some sleep. She was sure she would need the rest for whatever jobs Mercer and Brynjolf would dream up for her to do.

* * *

**A/N: This is my first fanfic, so please leave a review and let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

The "promotion" (if it could be called as such) brought new types of jobs for Sable. At first, she enjoyed the challenge they brought as the stakes were higher; the targets generally being wealthier with better security. The objects stolen were generally more valuable as well. But eventually, these jobs became just as tedious as all the others. Both Brynjolf and Mercer choose their words much more carefully ever since the plant job for Maven Black-Briar. Now the common instruction was that no one was to be killed. Blast them for ruining her fun. Still, she tried to find ways to make jobs more exciting, sometimes seeing if she could steal whatever the needed item was during the day time. Once, she had convinced an idiot to give her the object she was sent to steal. It had taken some real effort and a rather long lecture from Brynjolf afterwards about the appropriate use of the guild's treasury, but she had convinced the poor fool that his newly acquired gold and emerald amulet was really a cursed dragon priest artifact. He had actually thought she was doing him a favor as he happily handed it over to her.

This job, however, promised a great amount of hazard. The guild had been on the hunt for a jewel encrusted gold broche for some time and had finally learned it belonged to one of the Jarls of Skyrim. Siddgier, the ruler of Falkreath hold was found to have come into possession of the broche and as it was his current favorite toy, it never left his person. It was likely going to have to be a pickpocket job. The bad news was that time was running short on the contract and Siddgier was currently in Windhelm to attend a ball hosted by Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of the Eastmarch hold. Not only a pickpocket job, but in a room full of aristocracy and guards. If the thief was caught, it was unlikely they would be returning to the Ragged Flagon, the beloved home of the thieves guild, hidden in the sewers beneath Riften. Brynjolf had given the assignment to Sable stating that the time crunch and extreme risk of being caught was tailor made for their resident Special Acquirer and, that in his estimation, she was the best pickpocket the guild had.

Brynjolf was a damn good liar, but this was like he wasn't even trying. There was none better at pickpocketing than the guild's own Vipir the Fleet and everyone knew it. Sable was guessing that Brynjolf was almost hoping she would be caught and thrown in the Eastmarch dungeon for the rest of her life or executed. Still, she figured that the job wouldn't have been assigned to her if any of the others could pull it off and she almost hoped that her inward knowing smirk wasn't showing too much. Almost.

Some conversations with Vex and Sapphire, the only other women in the guild, revealed that Siddgier was quite the lazy type, who avoided his duties as if they would infect him with Bone-Break Fever, and that he fancied himself a bit of a charmer with the ladies. Sable was quite satisfied with that information. She could turn his weaknesses into strengths for her. A nice dress that showed off her curves along with some of her ample cleavage would easily make up for her slight deficiencies at pickpocketing.

It hadn't taken her long to gain Siddgier's attention at the party. Her fair skin – even by the standards of her Nord kin – combined with her stark white hair and pale blue-silver eyes once again attracted attention. Even more so in the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was a crimson red that was trimmed with cream and gold. She could smell mead on his breath as he drunkenly asked her to dance. Despite her revulsion, Sable did her best to fake being impressed. Not only did she accept the invitation, but played the part of a young maiden simply beguiled by his chauvinistic advances quite well. She didn't bother to unglue his eyes from her partially exposed bosom. It only worked to her advantage. Just as she was about to attempt one of his pockets, Siddgier suddenly stopped dancing and took her by the arm, leading her to a darkened corner of the grand hall.

Expulsion or not, she resolved that she would kill him if he kissed or attempted to grope her, but she ended up quite surprised at her luck when they got there. As soon as they were seated out of the way of the ongoing party, he fished out of a pocket the very thing she was sent to steal out of it.

"Look at this." He slurred. "There is not another like it in all of Skyrim and I own it."

Sable just stared, not quite sure of her response. She was simply dumbfounded by both how this turn of events favored her and the beauty of the piece. It was a large, flawless diamond set in an oval of gold with a mixture of sapphires and emeralds dancing around it. The white-haired thief couldn't help but imagine how marvelous she would look with it resting at her shoulders just off her cleavage in the beautiful dress she was wearing. She suddenly regretted leaving her treasured ribbon.

"I have lots of treasures like this you know." The jarl murmured drunkenly, breaking her reverie. "I just know you would look so pretty in some of the jewelry in my treasury."

Sable almost laughed. This was his game. He was going to try to impress his way into her bed with shiny baubles. Granted, it was such a radiant one, but it certainly wasn't worth giving herself up to the lout. Of greatest importance in life was power, and right now, with Siddgier, she was quite powerful. At that moment, one of the serving men walked in with a fresh tray of mead filled goblets.

"Oh, my lord! May I hold it?" Sable said suggestively. "I've never seen anything so desirable." Normally, she would have laughed at such a forced innuendo, but in his drunken state, Siddgier took the bait with no hesitation, thrusting it into her hands.

Sable couldn't believe that it had been so easy. She took in the broche for a moment, but her admiration was broken as she realized that Siddgier was leaning in closer to her. She looked to his face and saw his eyes closed and his lips pursed. He was a real charmer alright. The drunk slob probably couldn't tell her what color her eyes were and now expected a kiss after pushing a trinket in her hand.

"My lord, they have brought out another round of mead. Would you do me the favor of getting me a glass?" She said, feigning that she had been unaware of his advance. "I would be ever so grateful."

The last sentence she tried to say with as much innuendo laden sensuality as possible. It had the desired effect as Siddgier mumbled something about it being his pleasure and got up, his treasure completely forgotten, to chase the servant across the room and fetch a goblet of mead for his newest conquest.

Sable, using the shadows their corner afforded, pushed the broche into her dress and left the room unseen.

* * *

Outside, it was snowing gently. Sable began to wonder if it was ever not snowing in Windhelm. In all the times she had been there, it was always snowing. She supposed there had to be times when it wasn't snowing because the street ways were always traversable. Though she had to admit, she did like Windhelm some. The almost perpetual snow gave Windhelm a cold, almost calculating, and sometimes gloomy feel to it. She liked it. She decided that the darker nights in this city, with the deep, expansive shadows almost perfectly reflected herself.

She looked up at the sky. The clouds obscured most of the light any stars and the twin moons would have provided. Windhelm was going to be a very dark place tonight. Perfect. She smiled as she set out into the city. The dress she was wearing, while somewhat heavy, provided very little protection from the cold, so she headed straight for the stall of a certain merchant. Niranye, ran a shop in an outside market where she bought and sold just about anything. While the guild had not yet become powerful enough in Windhelm yet for the altmer to be comfortable with acting as a fence for them, she did still have sympathies to the thieves stemming from her past exploits in the Summerset Isles, before she came to Skyrim. Sable made for Niranye's stall unseen by the patrolling guards. With the cloud cover, the shadows were almost impenetrable this night. Once there, she picked the lock to one of the cabinets. Inside, it was bare. There was nothing in it. But then, she hadn't come to steal anything. Sable pried up the false bottom to the cabinet. The opening underneath ran the length of Niranye's stall, large enough to fit the much warmer and many pocketed leather armor that was the trademark of the thieves guild. Sable gathered up her armor that the high elf had allowed her to stash there and was about to leave when something caught her eye. Underneath her armor, was a gold pendant on thin gold chain. The pendant had two flawless amethysts set into it. It was undoubtedly valuable and equally pretty. It had not been there when she had stashed her armor the night before. Why would Niranye intentionally set it under her armor? A gift maybe? That seemed unlikely though and she just didn't trust it. But there was no reason to leave her a gift when she was the one that received a favor. As she thought, her eyes began roaming every inch of the stall. Finally she spotted it.

On the right hand side of the stall near the base of the main post, there was a small symbol carved into the wood. It was a simple upright four sided diamond with two overlapping circles across the front of it. Sable smiled. Niranye was testing the resolve of the guild. The symbol marked that she and her stall of goods were under the protection of the thieves guild. The high elf, apparently, didn't fully trust the strength of her new business relationship and had left some bait (some rather valuable and tempting bait) for her. Sable took the necklace and replaced the false bottom. After removing and pocketing the chain, she set the pendant in the otherwise empty cabinet, closed the small door and locked it back up. She was arguably overstepping her bounds here, but she wanted to send a message to Niranye. The Thieves Guild has passed your little test, elf; don't test us again.

Sable made her way to a nearby inn and "borrowed" a room just long enough to change out of the dress and into her armor. She left the dress with great regret. There was a long journey ahead of her to get back to Riften and though she dearly wanted to keep the beautiful gown, she knew it just wasn't practical. Maybe she could hide it someplace and come back for it, she thought. She eventually dismissed it as she had no idea when she might be back in Windhelm. The dress could easily be found and removed or destroyed by the elements before she returned. She held it to her and looked down over her body to remember exactly how pretty she had looked in it, then gently laid it out on the bed with a sigh and left the inn.

Outside, it was still snowing as Sable set off for the gate out of the city. She again avoided being seen by the guards even though she didn't have to. Even in her guild armor it was unlikely they would stop her. With the civil war raging, many of the guards had been re-assigned into the infantry, so the city was stretched thin and they generally only intervened if there was a crime actively being committed. Still, it made her feel powerful to be so close to someone when they had no awareness of her presence. And, after her time in the thieves guild, sneaking was pretty much a force of habit.

The gate, however, was pretty much impossible to get by unseen. There were always at least one guard to either side of the gate and it was always bathed in torchlight. And one almost always got stopped at the gate by the guards. Mainly just so they would have someone to chatter with. Sometimes, Sable was convinced that the tedium of their gossip would kill her before they could get the heavy doors open.

Sable, approached casually and was hailed by the guard. They agreed to let her out. One went to turn the crank to open the large heavy doors. She cringed through the awkward moment of silence while the other just stared at her before starting his inane banter.

"Did you hear about that Aretino, boy?" the guard started. "They say he's trying to perform some ritual to try to summon the Dark Brotherhood. I suppose someone should stop him, but personally, I'll have nothing to do with that evil business."

Sable, initially tried to ignore the guard, but the word ritual caught her ear. Rituals were usually done to gain some sort of power, were they not? She had heard about people performing the Black Sacrament in order to enact a contact with the assassins, but she did not know what was involved. Maybe she could even pretend to be an assassin and have at least some fun on this trip.


	3. Chapter 3

After a conversation with the keeper of the inn, Sable found herself picking the lock to the Aretino house and making her way silently inside. Immediately in front of her was a set of stairs. The glow of light in another room on the second floor told her that the ritual that had aroused her curiosity lay upstairs. As she got to the top of the stairs she could hear a young boy chanting over and over.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

She silently crept across the small common room to a nearby bedroom from where the light was emanating. The shock of the scene before her stopped her dead in her tracks.

Inside, a boy of about ten years had created an effigy of a person. He had almost a complete skeleton along with a heart and some flesh which he was repeatedly stabbing while chanting. Both the "body" and boy were inside a circle of candles, the flames of which flickered and danced throwing elongated shadows all over the walls. Blood was flecked everywhere from the boy's stabbing at the heart of the effigy.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." He paused. "So ... very tired.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

Sable just stood there watching the macabre scene wondering what horrors this boy must have gone through to put the effigy together. Worse yet, what evil was done to the boy that would cause him to carry this out? And who perpetrated such an evil?

The boy eventually must have felt her staring because he suddenly stopped and looked toward her.

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the ... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

Sable, remained involuntarily silent. She just couldn't bring herself to respond.

"You don't have to say anything. There's no need. You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract."

At this, Sable finally managed to find her voice. "Contract?"

"My mother, she … she died." The boy replied. "I … I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home." His voice now regained some of his earlier excitement. "And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

"What happened to your mother?" The pretend assassin asked crouching down to face the boy. He looked exhausted. It was clear by the bags and dark circles under his eyes that he hadn't slept in quite a while.

"She got sick, last winter, when the snows came. And she just … she never got better. Not all year. One night she fell asleep and … never woke up. So now I'm all alone. And the Jarl said I had to go to Honorhall Orphanage. It's not fair!"

Sable was normally all for killing, but this was almost unbelievable. "Are you sure about this boy? Murdering this woman?"

"I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life. Someone like Grelod doesn't deserve to live one more day. She's a monster! And I can pay you. I have a family heirloom you can have. It's supposed to be sort of valuable. I hope that is all right."

Sable nodded and then stood up. "I'll come back when the job is done," she said and left the Aretino house.

* * *

Upon her return to Riften, Sable was determined to check out the boy's story and make sure it was actually true. She was rebuffed during a simple visit by the assistant headmistress, a woman calling herself Constance. While she didn't seem very cruel, she was in quite a hurry to usher Sable out of the orphanage.

"You really shouldn't be here." She had said. "I'm sorry, but the children aren't up for adoption right now. You should go."

When Sable, attempted to question her further, Constance tried to assure her while still pushing her out.

"Look, my only concern is for the children. The poor darlings have no one else. If there's nothing else, I really must ask you to leave."

Sable had thought Constance's responses to be quite interesting, but also knew she wouldn't learn anything new from her. She would have to use her thieving skills to do her own reconnaissance.

In the meantime, she decided to return to the Ragged Flagon and report the job finished. Both Brynjolf and Mercer were quite pleased. Especially that no one had been killed. As a bonus, they had received a note from Niranye commending the guild for the professionalism displayed by their agent. Sable smiled at that comment. The high elf had received the message loud and clear. That combined with her having finished the job on time, Mercer presented her with a new set of leathers. These had a slightly different arrangement of pockets and straps. Anyone within the guild would see the pattern as marking her a high ranking thief within the guild. It even got her a better discount from the local fence.

Later that night, Sable crept out of the guild house and went to the orphanage to look around. She silently entered through a window into a small room devoid of any furniture save a cabinet against the near wall. She picked the lock easily and discovered it was full of heavy iron manacles. Wondering what in the world an orphanage would need with several sets of manacles, she slowly inched the door open on the far side of the room. It opened to the common room. Sable snooped around for a bit.

Constance's room was rather Spartan as well. A bed, a simple wardrobe, and a desk were all that the room contained. Sable searched the wardrobe and desk and found nothing sinister. Grelod's room was only slightly more lavish with a chest at the foot of her bed. Sable did find a whipping switch on Grelod's desk, but those were fairly common in any household much less an orphanage. She, apparently, was going to have to try to observe the orphanage when it was more active.

Before leaving, Sable used a dagger to make a slight crack in the door of the room she had come in. She would use it to peer through into the common room and watch since it would afford her with an excellent view. She left through the same window she entered and was gone without anyone ever knowing she was there.

* * *

Over the next few days, the crack in the door allowed Sable to get to know the headmistress of the orphanage. Grelod the Kind was anything but. She was probably the oldest woman Sable had ever seen. Covered with wrinkles with a matte of gray hair, it seemed her advanced age only served to fuel her bitterness. She would routinely call them names as they went about their "chores" of cooking and cleaning the orphanage along with anything else she dreamed up for them. She also would fly off into a rage for even the smallest transgressions. Most of the time, she made Constance take care of issues with the children. She once ordered Constance to "talk the tears" out of a frightened child or they would be beaten. Another time she instructed Constance to retrieve some coins she figured were stolen from her purse by one of the children or she would have them thrown into the Jarl's dungeon. Constance did her best to protect the children and it was clear she really did care for them, but it seemed Grelod was too much to overcome, especially when she sent Constance out on various errands for the orphanage.

Sable had gone back to the orphanage and questioned Constance again. She got a bit more information from her when she asked about Grelod's treatment of the children.

"Sadly, yes." She had explained. "Even the townsfolk have taken to calling her 'Grelod the Kind.' Her very existence has become something of a running joke. Grelod runs this orphanage because she's old, and set in her ways, and doesn't know any other life. These children need love, and comfort. I try … But … I'm sorry, you should go. The children aren't up for adoption and it's cruel to get their hopes up. Besides, Grelod hates … visitors."

It was actually when Constance had been sent out shopping for supplies that Sable had decided, just like the Aretino boy, that Grelod had to die. After ending yet another lecture to the children explaining how they were good for nothing, Grelod went to her room. She slammed the door hard enough that the vibrations caused a plate on a nearby shelf to fall and shatter. All of the children stood still in fear. When Grelod the Kind's door swung back open a moment later, they scattered, trying to find places to hide. However, Grelod caught one of them and began hauling them to the "Discipline Room". Sable quickly realized that the room she was hiding in was the destination of Grelod and the poor child she had managed to catch. Sable made for the window and was on the roof of the building before they entered.

She hung her head from the roof and peeked in the window to watch what unfolded. Grelod's face was red with anger as she brought the child in. The young boy tried to free himself but made not a bit of progress against what must have been the old woman's iron grip. She made right for the cabinet and drew out a pair of the manacles. Despite the boy's struggles, she clapped them onto his wrists quickly, dragged him over to a wall to the left of the window and hung them over a hook in the wall so he couldn't flee. She then drew the switch Sable had seen in her room. As soon as he saw it, the boy turned his back to the old crone to protect himself from the beating as best he could. The boy screamed in pain with each blow, but it seemed that Grelod would never stop. When she began to see red stain the back of the boy's shirt, Sable flashed back to her childhood and the tortures she endured through her early teenaged years.

Like the Aretino boy, her parents had died when she was young and she was taken in by an innkeeper. At first, the arrangement was nice. She helped with cleaning and cooking and he gave her food and a safe place to sleep. However, as she entered her teenaged years, he turned on her. The abuses she suffered at his hands were not the same as this boy was getting, but she was no less enraged by it. The inn keeper had been her first kill. She had never looked back, eventually finding her way to the thieves guild.

Sable snapped out of her unexpected recollections. This couldn't go unpunished. In a silent flash, Sable was back in the room unnoticed by Grelod. Another second later, Sable was immediately behind her. A moment later, her blade bit the old woman's throat. She yanked her to the side so none of her blood would defile the innocent, nearly unconscious boy hanging limp against the wall.

"You're free of her evil now," she whispered to the boy, tears of sorrow and rage stinging her eyes. The boy only groaned in reply. "I'm sorry I did not act sooner. I will do what I can to help you."

Just then, she heard the main door to the orphanage creak open. Constance was back. She quickly forced her only healing potion down the boy's throat as best she could and once again exited using the window.

When Constance saw the door to the Discipline Room slightly ajar, she rushed over. Grelod would usually leave the children hanging after such a beating for her to take care of. When she threw open the door, she got the shock of her life. There was a boy hanging, his shirt soaked with blood. Lying next to him in a pool of her own was Grelod. Stone dead.


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken some convincing, but Sable was back in Windhelm.

Brynjolf had seemed very suspicious of her refusing a job in order to pursue a "personal matter".

_"What kind of personal matter, lass?" the red-haired Nord had questioned._

_"That's the thing about personal matters, Brynjolf," she had retorted. "They're personal."_

_Brynjolf arched an eyebrow suspiciously. He was about to say something, but she cut him off. "I promise I won't be killing anyone. Does that help?"_

_It had seemed the relieve some of the suspicion he held, but still he questioned. "Are you freelancin', lass? You know the rules about guild members doing private jobs on the side."_

_"I'm attending my mother's funeral!" She had snapped. She had known that was not going to resolve anything. Brynjolf knew her background. He knew that her mother had died long before she had come to the guild. But, then he had surprised her._

_"Alright, lass, I'll respect your privacy. Get back as soon as you can. There are jobs lined up for you."_

_She was grateful that he had let it drop. It was rather uncharacteristic of him. They had never really had a good relationship. It had been nice at first, but it didn't take him long to disagree with her methods. He just didn't see the same power in taking life that she did. That was always his problem. He was satisfied with just having wealth. He didn't see the big picture of power. Not only did she see it, she took the opportunity to exercise it. She supposed that's what bothered him about her. She had come to realize that the guild as a whole was weak due to lack of ambition to seize power. Even Mercer Frey. It seemed like he saw the big picture, but was too scared to try to wield it._

_One day, she resolved, she would lead the guild and then they would discover a level of wealth and power that they hadn't dreamed of. All of Skyrim would fear the guild. The guild would hold real power over everyone._

Finally, the guard had moved along his route. Sable crept out of the shadow and picked the lock to the Aretino house. It didn't take her long to find the boy inside. He was overjoyed to see her again.

"Did you do it? Is Grelod … you know, dead?"

"She will never harm you or any other child again." Sable promised crouching to his level. "Now, about my payment …"

"I'm sorry. I have it in the other room. Wait here!" The boy dashed off into another room before she could finish. She wanted him to keep whatever the heirloom was. Hopefully it would be something the boy could look at and remember better times with his family. Worst case, he could sell it and use the money to support himself.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be an assassin. That way I can help lots of children, just like you." The boy emerged carrying a large silver plate that was finely decorated around the edges. Sable slumped a bit. The plate was moderately valuable. Not the treasure he thought it was though. Still she urged him to keep it.

"It's okay, young man, you can keep it. This job wasn't that hard anyway." She tried.

"No! You must take it!" he cried. "We had a contract. I don't want the assassins to come after me if you don't take it. You must take it! Besides, I would gladly pay much more than this to be rid of that monster, Grelod, if I had anymore to give. Please take it."

"Okay, okay. I'll take it." Sable gave in. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, I don't think I should stay here." He thought for a moment. "Constance was always nice to me. I think I'll go back to the orphanage in a while. I'll give them time to, you know … clean up the mess."

"I see. Be careful, okay."

The boy gave her a funny look. "I made the trip once and it wasn't so hard. I can do it again."

"Of course." She confirmed. "With the contract fulfilled, I'll take my leave."

Outside, the sun was just beginning to dawn over the horizon. Sable made straight for Niranye's stall. She figured there was one last thing she could do for the Aretino boy.

Niranye was just opening as Sable approached.

"Greetings Niranye." She said as she approached. Niranye recognized her leather armor affiliating her with the thieves guild immediately.

"What service can I provide for the guild this morning?" She asked.

"What will you give me for this?" Sable set the ornate silver plate on the altmer's table.

Niranye looked it over for a moment. "It's a decent piece if a bit unremarkable. For the guild, I'll go as high as 75 septims, though it's probably only worth about 67."

"Would that be enough for me to secure a person protected travel to Riften?" Sable asked.

"Is this for you?"

Sable shook her head. "And they need to be unaware that protection is being provided."

The high elf frowned. "What you're asking for is worth much more than what you're offering."

"How much?" the white-haired thief asked.

"Probably 100 septims. Maybe a bit more."

"Will this cover the rest?" Sable asked reaching into a pocket and pulling from it the gold chain she had taken from Niranye's stall about a week and half earlier. Niranye recognized it instantly. Her face flushed with anger, but changed to amusement a moment later.

"Well, you've got some guts, don't you." She smirked. "But yes, that will cover it. I'll make the arrangements, but I'm considering this a personal favor to you. I will call it to be re-paid at some point."

"Done."

"Good. Tell me who are we looking after?"

"The Aretino boy." Sable replied. The look on Niranye's face showed the deal was becoming rather tenuous.

"What business do you have with that boy?" the high elf asked incredulously. "That one is said to have been messing around with some  _dark_  dealings." She emphasized the word "dark" in order to convey exactly what she thought those dealings to be.

Sable reached into another pocket and slapped a gold and diamond ring down on the table. She had acquired from some noble visiting Riften. "If it's all the same," she leaned in and spoke quietly, "that business is my own and I would appreciate that all this be kept very quiet and without any further questions."

"Fine," Niranye bristled. "I'll make the arrangements, but I don't want this plate. I'll have nothing connecting me to whatever that boy was into. Are we clear on that?"

Sable retrieved the Aretino artifact. "Crystal."

The curvy thief turned, and made for Windhelm's gate.

* * *

A few days later, Sable had found herself in Whiterun. This job was indirectly connected to Maven Black-Briar, so she had been sent due to her past work for the unofficial matron of the guild. Mallus Maccius ran the meadery just outside of the city as an extension to Black-Briar's front business. One of the mead vats had broken and new parts were required to get it operational again. Rather than pay for the fabrication of new ones via a blacksmith, Mallus had commissioned the thieves guild to acquire them. Keeping the repair "in house" proved quite cost-effective for him, which in turn, kept Maven happy.

Sable had stolen the pieces needed from a nearby ale brewery that used the same type of vats by "borrowing" another worker's uniform and looking like a regular employee. She returned the uniform to the still unconscious worker right in the same alley where she had left him and was on her way to the meadery when a courier came running up.

"Excuse me, miss. I have a message for you. Let me find it here." He rummaged in a bag and then produced a folded piece of paper. "Here we go."

"Who's it from?" Sable questioned.

"I didn't get a name. Some rather creepy looking guy in a black robe. He paid lots of money, so I wasn't about to ask questions. Said to make sure I delivered this to your hands only." He waited a moment before deciding their conversation was over. "Well, that's it. Got to go."

With that he turned and headed off in the other direction. Sable opened the note and felt the color drain from her face. The note was blank except for the depiction of a hand print in black ink and only two words scrawled across the bottom. "We know."

* * *

It was taking much longer than expected to deliver the vat parts to Mallus. He insisted on replacing them on the vats and making sure they worked before letting her go. It didn't help that he barely knew what was he was doing. Mallus had inherited the meadery from Maven Black-Briar after helping the city guard "discover" the previous owner was running it under extremely unsanitary conditions. Sable was forced to stand there and watch as the Imperial fumbled to get the parts changed out and declare the job a success. It left her to wonder about the note she had received. While she wasn't sure, she was betting the note was from someone within the Dark Brotherhood. How could they have possibly known? Had she been careless and someone seen her? The murder of Grelod the Kind had caused quite a stir in Riften, but last she heard, they still had no idea who the killer was and the guard had officially attributed the murder to the assassins guild. By the Eight Divines, how could they possibly know? More importantly, were they going to exact some kind of revenge?

"Okay, looks like it's in working order. Here's the pay for the both you and the guild. You can leave now."

Mallus was the type of person that Sable normally might kill just so the world wouldn't have to deal with him any longer, but since he was in charge of the operation in Whiterun, she resisted the urge. It wouldn't do to anger Maven Black-Briar. Not even thieves were outside of her wrath. She took the offered coin purse and left.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. How long had she been in there? The growing darkness quickly set her in a foul mood. She could have been on her way back to Riften by now, but since she hadn't slept the night before, choosing to push through to Whiterun and try to get the job over with, she was quite tired. She decided it best to rent a room at an inn and set off tomorrow.

She rented the cheapest room at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. It was a loft overlooking the common bar area of the inn and contained only a small square table and a bed. Sable fell into the bed without bothering to undress. She was exhausted and was hoping wake up to find the note from the Dark Brotherhood to be nothing more than a figment of some bothersome dream.

* * *

Sable woke with blurred vision and disorientation. She knew enough that she was no longer in the Bannered Mare. As her vision started to clear, she took in more detail. She was in some kind of shack. It was lit by a small fire in the pit in the middle of the one roomed structure. Finally her vision cleared enough to see another person.

She was sitting across from Sable on the top of a set of book shelves with her left leg casually hanging off the front. She was covered head to toe in black and dark red leather armor. The only part of her that was visible was a gap in her mask revealing her brow and hazel eyes.

"Sleep well?" He voice was like silk.

"What? Where am I? Who are you?" For some reason she wasn't sure of yet, Sable was more intrigued than frightened.

"Does it matter?" the stranger asked. "You're warm, dry … and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmmm?"

"You know about that?" Sable questioned. She was incredulous that anyone knew that she had done it.

"Half of Skyrim knows," came the amused reply. "Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around." Sable's heart leapt into her throat. Sure, the murder would be a popular conversation topic for a while, but no one had known it was her. She had killed a lot of people, but this was the first time that anyone outside of the thieves guild had known about it.

"Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot." She continued, apparently not understanding Sable's look of puzzlement.

"Ah, but there is a slight … problem." Her silken voice took on a slight hint of menace. "You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill … that you stole. A kill you must repay."

"What do you mean a kill I must repay?" Sable crossed her arms over her chest. While to most, it would seem a posture of indifference or consternation, the reality was that doing so readied her to pull her daggers very quickly.

"Well now. Funny you should ask. If you turn about you'll notice my guests. I've collected them from … well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But … which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe … and admire."

Sable turned and saw three other captives bound and hooded across the room. There was a man, a woman, and a Khajiit. Determined to get it all over with, she crossed the room and attempted to question the prisoners.

The man revealed himself to be a mercenary but claimed no knowledge of someone wanting him dead. He did, however, postulate that perhaps there was any number of people that might hold a grudge again him. He was a sell-sword after all. Sable, not convinced, drew her dagger and touched his arm with the cold blade.

"Alright, alright! Maybe there were … times I got carried away? But war is war."

There it was. Some kind of brutality he had perpetrated and was apparently remorseful about. Perhaps he was the one.

Sable went to the woman next. She was aged, though not as old as Grelod was. She was also quite crass and abrasive, demanding to be set free. She, apparently, thought highly of herself as well. When the old woman revealed that perhaps she was rather tough on her many children Sable thought of Grelod. With the beating she had witnessed still somewhat fresh, she could feel herself flushing with the heat of anger.

"Do some people look down on me? Have I made some enemies? You're damn right. And you can be yet another if you don't let me go this instant!"

The threats and demands went on and on. Sable was more than ready to make this self-righteous hag eternally silent, but since she was being tested to find which one had a contract out on them, she decided to question the cat, just to be thorough.

The Khajiit seemed to be the only one of the three not alarmed or stressed by his situation, casually mentioning that this wasn't the first time he had been "bagged and dragged."

"Do anything that someone might want to have you killed for?" she asked him.

"Of course," he boasted. "I am Vasha, obtainer of goods, taker of lives, defiler of daughters. If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult."

Perfect, the thief thought, each one of them would seem to have good reason to have someone wanting them dead. How was she supposed to decide? What would happen if she chose incorrectly? The other captives, apparently taking her indecision and quiet as an indication of their eminent death, began to plea their innocence to her. Well two of them pleaded. The cat simply laughed and asked if they could get it over with so he could go on about his business. The others kept begging louder and louder, trying to be heard over the other.

The clamor rose to the point that Sable was having trouble trying to think through the decision. The frustration at her inability to reason out which one had the hit put on them soon grew to anger. The racket fueled it until, overwhelmed with inward frustration, she acted.

Without saying a word, the white-haired Nord angrily stomped over to the mercenary and slit his throat. The others heard the gargling then the thump of his lifeless body as it hit the floor and began to offer her thanks and gratitude for making the correct choice. But they were premature. She next calmly walked to the woman and without saying a word, slashed her throat as well. Another step later, her knife flashed across Vasha's neck.

After the third body fell to the floor, Sable crossed the room back to her captor, determined to walk out of the room alive, whatever it took. The black and red clad woman hopped down from her perch atop the book case.

"Well, well. Aren't we the overachiever." She greeted her with her silken voice and a look of amusement in her beautiful hazel eyes. "Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances."

Sable just stood there wondering if she had gained her approval, or if she had again over-stepped her bounds and would have to kill a fourth this day. She said nothing.

After waiting a moment and getting no response, the assassin spoke again. "I would like to officially extend you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: 'Silence, my brother.' Then you're in. And your new life begins. I'll see you at home."

With that, her captor turned and left the shack.


	5. Chapter 5

A couple of days of travelling found Sable staring at what had to be the Black Door. The entrance to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary was quite gruesome. Carved into the dark gray stone was a depiction of a skeleton sitting against the left hand side with its knees bent. At the base of the skeleton under the legs were five smaller skulls jumbled together. Above all that was a much larger skull, taking up nearly the top half of the door, with a large, red hand print on its forehead.

Before approaching the door, Sable thought again about her decision. Stepping through this door most likely meant the end of her rather prosperous life with the thieves guild. She had wondered whether she wanted to join the assassin's guild, or as her brief captor had put it, the Family. Should she step into a life of murder for hire? The prospect of killing didn't really concern her much. It never had before. And assassination was bound to be just as lucrative, if not more so, than larceny. So why was she hesitant? Perhaps it was the nature in which she was recruited. Or perhaps the bizarre demeanor of her recruiter. Eventually, curiosity and the prospect of the power over other's lives had caused her to journey to the southwest reaches of Skyrim, to a corner of the Falkreath hold, to a dark and forbidding door. Those same feelings carried her a couple steps more to stand directly in front of the door.

"What is the music of life?" whispered several raspy voices in unison she heard in her mind rather than out loud. It was a bit disconcerting, but also quite intriguing.

"Silence, my brother." She answered.

The door slowly opened inward and she stepped into the darkened passageway, carved into the stone, beyond.

On instinct, she dropped into a sneaking crouch and made her way down the dimly lit passage. It sloped downward and to the left, ending at a small cave that was well lit with torches. On the far side, leaning on her hands over a table, stood a Nord woman, her blonde tresses cascading down just past her shoulders. Sable didn't step into the room immediately. She waited patiently surveying the room to be sure, as best as she could, that there were no other people or surprises lurking. She couldn't, however, see around the corner to the right where the passageway opened into the cave. She would have to just take the risk and step out into the light at some point.

Reasoning that she was here by invitation, and also hoping she wasn't being foolish, she stood to her full height and stepped into the room. As soon as she was heard, the woman at the other side turned to see her. It was the same woman that had kidnapped and tested her in the shack. She could tell from her hazel eyes. The woman smiled.

"Ah, at last! I hope you found the place, all right." She said, giving a friendly wave, gesturing her to come closer.

Sable crossed the distance between them in a couple steps. "Yes, it wasn't terribly difficult, though the door is well hidden. What happens now?"

"Well, what happens now is you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You're a part of the Family, after all. This, as you can see is our Sanctuary. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim. So get comfortable."

Sable thought it a bit amusing to hear a den of assassins described as the safest place in Skyrim, still she figured there would be any number of things to get used to within the Dark Brotherhood.

"Here is a set of armor more befitting your new place in the world." She said, handing Sable a set of the same black and dark red leather armor. She couldn't tell why, but it had a slightly different feel to it than any other leather she had come across before. "I am Astrid, the head of our family here. Go and meet the others."

Sable turned in the direction of Astrid's gesture and saw another passageway leading down, further into the cave. It was shorter than the first, but before she reached the end, she heard voices float up to her from the cavern beyond. On instinct, she froze to listen before moving on.

"Festus, how'd your latest go?" a deep rich voice asked. "Wasn't it some young noble?"

"It went rather well." A voice made of gravel replied. "I used a new destruction spell I've been working on. Nearly turned him inside out. It was quite messy."

"And you Babette. How'd yours go?" A female voice chimed in. "Some old man, yes?"

"It was such fun," came the answer. If Sable hadn't known better she would have said it belonged to a child. "I used the candy trick again." The voice changed, mimicking a supremely old man. "Would the sweetie like a sweetie?" The voice change back to that of a young girl's. "Oh yes, sir! Let's go through this alleyway, it's a shortcut to the candy store." The old man's voice came back. "Why aren't you such a pretty one. Wait, your teeth. No! Nooooooo!"

There was a burst of laughter. Then a raspy voice joined the conversation. "And what about yourss, Arnbjorn? A Khajiit merchant, right?"

The young voice piped in again. "Oh, how adorable! The big dog chasing a kitten."

Another burst of laughter, before the answer came.

"The cat was a mercenary and it took me nearly a week to track him down." This voice spoke quite angrily and was gravely as well, though not as much as the first. "I tore him apart when I caught him. Perhaps I'll use his fur coat to make a new jacket!"

There was more laughter. The white haired Nord stood still listening for more as the laughter died away, but the group conversation was apparently over.

"Have we become suddenly shy?" Astrid startled her. By the Eight, the woman was uncannily quiet. This was the second time the assassin leader had snuck up on her. For one that was always used to having the situation reversed, it was rather unnerving. "Come, I will take you to meet the others."

It was then that Sable realized she had not moved. It looked like the overly cautious habits Brynjolf had pounded into her would die hard.

Before she could say anything in her defense, Astrid began walking down the passageway before them, not waiting to hear any explanation her newest recruit would offer. Sable followed her out of the passageway. It opened into a much larger cavern that served as the large common area for the guild. There was a smallish pool of water to her right that fed the smallest of streams that flowed out the back of the large cavern through a small crack in the wall. Immediately to her left was an area set in with a forge, grinding wheel, and workbench. It looked to be a fully functioning black smith right there in the cavern. A large, grumpy-looking Nord man sat at the grind wheel sharpening a huge double bladed axe. He had a light blonde beard and long hair.

Astrid strode toward him. "Arnbjorn, this is our newest recruit, Sable." She turned back to Sable slightly. "This is Arnbjorn, my husband."

Before she could say anything, Arnbjorn addressed her. "Before you get to thinking of us getting to know each other, let me tell you all you need to know." He said aggressively. "I'm a werewolf. I like killing people. I love my wife. I hate annoying people. And the color blue gives me headaches. We probably won't be friends, so the more you can leave me alone, the better."

"Arn, you could at least try to be nicer to our newest addition." Astrid scolded before shuffling Sable off to the next meeting. "Don't worry about him, I'm sure he'll come around to you with time." She assured her.

Before she could really contemplate the implications of a werewolf, Astrid led her further into the cavern back towards the pool of water, where she saw a very dark-skinned Redguard man crouching near the pool. He got up and faced them as they approached. His trimmed mustache grew across his upper lip and out into his beard that grew down below his chin and was gathered together into a gold band. He wore a scimitar in a scabbard at his hip.

"Nazir, this is Sable, the newest member of our family." Astrid introduced her.

"Greetings, sister." Nazir said with a rich deep voice. "I hope you survive long enough for me to learn your name."

Astrid shot him a look – which he completely ignored – but did not respond to his comment. Instead, she led Sable towards a dark corner of the cave near a ledge where some stairs had been carved out of the stone in order to reach the higher level of the cave.

As they drew near, the shadows under the ledge, near the stairs, moved and out stepped an Argonian covered in dark green scales with large horns growing from the back of his head and several smaller tusks along his jaw line. He was wearing the same black and red armor as Astrid. It was disconcerting to Sable that she never saw him sitting there. She was a good thief and an even better sneak. It was unsettling that she hadn't known the lizard was there.

"Sable, this is Veezara." The introductions continued. "Veezara, Sable is new to the family."

"Welcome, ssisster." The Argonian said, his speech marked with slight hissing. His voice was raspy but full of genuine warmth. "I am Veezara, the lasst of the Shadowsscaless. Pleasse let me know if I can assssisst you in any way."

After the first two, Sable hadn't expected any friendliness among the so called family so she was caught a bit off guard by Veezara.

"Shadowscale?" She inquired.

"Yess." Veezara answered, again without a hint of malice in his voice. "It used to be in Black Marsh that any who hatched under the ssign of the Shadow were taken by the Dark Brotherhood and trained from birth to be assssassssinss. We, then sserve the king until we come of age. At that point, we are accepted into the Dark Brotherhood. But alass. I am the lasst of my kind. My order is extinct."

She wanted to talk more with Veezara, but Astrid, apparently, had more people for her to meet. "Thank you, Veezara, for such a warm welcome. I trust you will help our sister with anything she needs."

"Of course." The lizard enthused before sinking back into the shadows under the ledge. It was uncanny how he seemed to just disappear into them. Sable resolved that she would have to have him show her that trick.

Astrid directed her up the stairs and through another short passage that opened into yet another cave. This one was well lit and seemed to serve as the assassins guild's apothecary. There was a set of shelves on the wall near her as well as on the opposite wall along with a long table, several chairs, an enchanting alter, and an alchemy table complete with a mortar and pestle, alembic, retort, and calcinator. This room had three occupants who all turned to gaze at her when they entered. One was an extremely old man wearing black and red robes to her left. Directly across from her was a dunmer wearing a hooded set of the same black and red robes. But it was the girl, aged about 10 to 12, sitting at the opposite side of the table that caught Sable's attention the most.

The man, she learned, was named Festus Krex and he was even more crotchety than Arnbjorn. He wore robes since he was a mage and preferred turning his contracts into ash. The dark elf was Gabriella, who was also a mage, but specialized more in the healing magics – which Festus considered a waste of time – mainly using poisons to finish her work. She was also quite warm and friendly, welcoming Sable into the family. But the child was the most shocking of everyone she had met. She sat there while Astrid introduced her to the other two, though it looked like she might burst from the wait. Finally, Astrid brought her before the girl.

"Is this our new sister?" she asked unable to contain her enthusiasm any longer.

"Yes, Babette," Astrid chuckled, "This is Sable."

"We're all so excited to have you here. A part of the Family." The child enthused.

"Not of all us, Babette. Don't speak out of turn. I, for one, don't care."

"Shush, Festus. That's enough from you for now." Astrid shot back at him.

Sable stood stunned. "How … how old are you, child?" She asked.

Babette, giggled. "Nearly 300." She smiled quite wide and that's when Sable spotted her long, pointed incisors. "Vampirism tends to keep one remarkably … fresh."

The surprises just kept coming with this one. "You're a … vampire?"

"Yep." She answered with the exuberance of a child. "Don't let my appearance throw you off. I'm older than you. A lot older. Getting bitten by a vampire when you're ten will do that to a girl. It's been quite a boon, looking like a child. No one ever suspects a thing. My targets make the mistake of not perceiving me as a threat. Last mistake they ever make."

A forever ten year old, 300 year old vampire with quite the devious side of her? This guild had everything, Sable thought.

"Come, sister." Astrid beckoned. "I'll show you to your room. I'm sure you'll want to rest from your long journey before we share our evening meal."

Astrid led a bewildered Sable back through the passageway they had come. They crossed to the other side of the large cavern and into another set of passageways in the caves. Eventually they came to a hallway of doors. Astrid led her down the hall to the last door on the left.

"Here is your room. These quarters are your own and no one else's. Rest up and join us for the evening meal. If you need anything before then, don't hesitate to ask any of us." Astrid grabbed both of her shoulders in an affectionate squeeze. "Welcome home, sister." She gave Sable a warm smile and then left her to explore her room.

Sable opened the door and went in. It wasn't lavishly furnished, but wasn't bare either. The door opened in about the middle of the room. To her right was a desk complete with ink, quills, and rolls of paper. To her left, two chairs for her to position wherever she desired. Further down the wall to her right was a mannequin and several wall racks on which to hang her armor and weapons when not out on a contract. Directly across from those was a set of shelves that had already been stocked with various liquid-filled bottles and vials. There was note pinned to it.

"Some healing potions and some helpful poisons. Enjoy, and let me know if you need more." It was signed by Babette.

On the far wall was a bed covered with fur blankets, with a sizable chest resting just beyond the foot of it. But it was the object lying on the bed that caused Sable's jaw to drop open.

Resting on the bed, in perfect condition, was the beautiful red dress trimmed in cream and gold that she had worn to the banquet in Windhelm the night she had stolen the broche from the very drunk Jarl of Falkreath. She couldn't believe it. She had made her peace on never seeing, much less wearing, that dress again. And there it was; a gift from her new family.

She picked it up and held it to her body and twirled around a couple of times. She smiled as a tear slowly made its way down her pale check. After all the years, after all the searching all this time, finally, she was truly home.

* * *

 

**A/N: This chapter marks the end of the first part of The Legend of The White Deathbell. In the next chapters, she will get some training and then her first major contract dealing with a certain apothecary's assistant. Afterwards the story will break away from the DB storyline of the game.**


	6. Chapter 6

Now this was living. The white haired assassin crept along the dark corridors of the dwemer ruin and couldn't help smiling. There were four dead brigands scattered about the maze of dwarven corridors and caves behind with her target still to be found somewhere ahead. Not one had known she was there before her dagger had raced across their throats. This kind of work suited her. Unlike the thieves guild of Riften, the Dark Brotherhood held no qualms in her killing her way to the targets. And not only was she paid for what she loved doing, but she often had the opportunity to loot the places she visited and the people she ended and the guild let her keep it or helped her sell it. Assassination was indeed far more lucrative than anything she'd done as a thief. While her first three contracts had been boringly easy, she had walked away with 1500 septims. She had made more in a few days than she would have in probably 3 months in thieves guild. In fact, the single highest paying job she had done was for an oddity for which Delvin Mallory, the elder statesmen of the guild, had paid a whopping 200 septims.

Her only regret, if she held any at all, might be that she had not found the Family sooner. Though she wasn't sure how that would have been possible. She was only contacted when she had inadvertently stolen a contact from the Dark Brotherhood. She had heard of a boy performing the Black Sacrament, a ritual to summon the Dark Brotherhood, in Windhelm and, out of curiousity, investigated. The boy had thought her an assassin and refused to hear otherwise. He demanded that she kill the abusive headmistress of an orphanage to which he had been sent. Sable had accepted and decided to make sure the boy's story was true. While spying on the occupants of the orphanage, she witnessed the old woman who ran the place, Grelod "the Kind", mercilessly whip a boy for an offense he had not committed. The beating was so brutal that it brought her back to her own past and the abuses she had suffered from a "kindly" inn keeper that took her in after she had been orphaned. Grelod died swiftly, gargling as her blood poured out of her throat. When Sable, went back to the boy that hired her and reported the old woman dead, he had pressed her to accept an old family heirloom, a large silver plate with embellishments worked into the edges.

A few days later, she had been kidnapped and tested by Astrid, the leader of the assassin's guild. Sable had passed the test and was given the offer to join the Dark Brotherhood. Afterwards, she made her way down to the sanctuary and had never looked back.

The reception had been mixed when Astrid had introduced her to her new Family. Two men hadn't seemed to want anything to do with her. Arnbjorn, Astrid's husband and a werewolf, had come around and now seemed to accept her. Festus Krex, on the other hand, was nothing but a curmudgeon who barely tolerated anyone. There was also a Redguard name Nazir. At first, he was quite guarded, but after she had successfully completed the first few minor contracts he had given her, he opened up much more and Sable found his sarcasm to be amusing every now and then. Veezara, the Argonian, had welcomed her right away and was quite interesting. She had talked to him a bit about his history being a Shadowscale, one trained from birth as an assassin.

But it was Gabriella, a beautiful dark elf, and Babette, a ten year looking girl who was really a 300 year old vampire and master alchemist, that had made her feel most welcome. Babette had given her a most exuberant welcome and, Sable had learned later, had been responsible for procuring a beautiful red dress trimmed with gold and cream for her. It was one that the thief-turned-assassin had reluctantly left behind during a job for the thieves guild.

She had taken a liking to Babette immediately. There was something about how she seemed to dance back and forth between the long-lived malicious killer and 10 year old girl that intrigued Sable, possibly a reflection of what had been stolen from her and what she now considered herself to be. Unfortunately, the white haired assassin had not been able to spend much time with the guild's eldest member, as Astrid informed her that her sneaking would need work before they sent her out on any major contracts.

At first, Sable was a touch insulted by the suggestion that she needed training. She figured that her time spent in the thieves guild had made her quite stealthy. Astrid had not harshly overruled her, but rather calmly explained that while she had talent, it needed to be refined, and that if she could learn some of the methods the Family could teach her, she could not only get the drop on a Vigilant of Stendarr in broad daylight, but it would also make it very difficult for anything to do the same to her.

Upon further argument, Astrid took her to a small room in the sanctuary instructed her to stand in the middle of it and then blindfolded her.

"Now, I'm going out into the hall and I will sneak back in." The leader explained. "You call me out as soon as you're aware of me. Make sure to state where I am so we all know no one is cheating. If I manage to touch you before you are aware, I win and you'll be considered dead. If you win, I'll concede that you need no training. Deal?"

Sable smiled, knowing this was a game she would easily win. "Agreed."

"Then we begin as soon as I leave the room."

A moment later, the footsteps went quiet and Sable knew the game had begun. She had always considered herself very intuitive and aware of her surroundings. The rookie assassin concentrated on what she was feeling. She had always felt she had a stronger sense of awareness than most and that she could almost feel when things changed or inhabitants moved in her general vicinity.

But she felt nothing. She washed all the thoughts from her mind and centered her awareness on the room. Still nothing. Had Astrid even come in yet?

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. "You're dead," a silken voice chimed. "Care to try again."

Flustered, Sable nodded. How had Astrid done that? She never heard a sound or felt any shift in the room?

"Begin." She heard followed by a few footsteps before it went quiet again.

This time, Sable really dug into herself; into her awareness, determined not to be embarrassed again. She took note of the damp smell of the room; took in the gentle crackling of the wall torches. The room was still and quiet.

And then, came the tap. "Dead again." She nearly growled in frustration. Three more times they played the game and three more times Astrid "killed" her, each time faster than the one before. Sable ripped the blindfold off her head in rage. The guild's matron just smirked. "Let's try again. But this time I will play the victim. We'll see how good you are."

A grin broke out on Sable's face as soon as the blindfold was on Astrid. Now, she could give Astrid a taste of her own infuriating medicine. She walked out and then dropped into a crouch and began to silently creep back in and towards the source of her consternation. As soon as she had fully come through the door, Astrid voice rang out.

"You've made it a whole two steps through the door. Try again." Sable was stunned. She prided herself on being completely unknown up until the moment she made the kill. She wasn't even in striking distance. Perhaps a good leap could close the distance, but she didn't figure that any assassin worthy of the profession did much desperate lunging at their victims. She stood and walked back out.

This time she went much slower, taking her time to make sure she was absolutely silently. She had just about halved the distance when Astrid's voice again foiled her attempt.

"Much better this time. I figure you have about 3 more steps until you strike. Shall we try once more?" Sable stood and stomped out of the room.

Moments later, Sable rounded the corner of the door and her target came into view. The tall blonde Nord had been a great source of frustration this day. Her pale blue-silver eyes focused as she used every ounce of skill to sneak up on Astrid. She passed her previous mark and still no utterance, she crept closer and still closer. Sable was there. She raised her hand for the tap, when her prey suddenly stepped away and spoke.

"Now, that is impressive." There was genuine admiration in her voice. "It's been a long time since any one has got that close to me. Except for Veezara. No one has ever beaten him in either role at this game." She said as removed her blindfold. "You removed your boots on this attempt?" she paused considering the tactic. "It displays a willingness to adapt oneself. Still the overachiever, I see."

Despite her frustration being near boiling point at having almost had Astrid and still failing, Sable couldn't help but smile at seeing the smile on her leader's face.

"You have real potential." The matron purred. "I'll see to it that Veezara instructs you from now on. I look forward to seeing just how good you can become."

* * *

Sable was a swinging pendulum of pride and rage as Astrid explained the task of training their newest sister to Veezara.

"She's got some natural talent." The chief assassin explained. "I need you to sharpen it into real skill. She's shown some initiative and adaptability, but thinks her prowess better than it really is and lets go of her focus sometimes. I also thought of you because, like you, she seems to favor daggers so make sure she knows how to use them when she's fighting more than just an unsuspecting throat." She then looked over and smiled warmly at Sable. "She's quite the overachiever. Make sure to challenge her in order to bring out her best."

Veezara walked over and smiled into her pale blue-silver eyes. "Do not trouble yoursself over her wordss to much." Her reptilian brother assured her as if reading her thoughts. "Asstrid actually cares for uss deeply and wantss uss protected. One way of doing that iss by honing our sskillss. I look forward to assssissting you in your growth."

The training Veezara provided had been invaluable to improving her sneaking abilities. Since the Argonian's skill was too great to make the game anything but counter-productive, he took to watching Sable play the game with others willing to help (mainly Babette and Gabriella) and then offered advice.

"Don't just think of what you are aware of. You target hass awarenessss of their own. Think about the thingss they are aware of, thingss they could be aware of, and thingss they should be aware of but are not before you approach. Take time to sstudy your target and learn their aptitudess. Thiss will help you determine the amount of sstealth you need and whether you can ssacrifice any in favor of sspeed." He instructed her. "Alsso, apply these ssame principless to yoursself and you will find that you will be harder to ssneak up on as well. Be mindful about what ssomeone elsse would be aware of about you. Ssee your ssurroundingss from as many pointss of view as possssible."

Sable didn't stop practicing outside of her trainings. She was on a mission to best Astrid at the game so she took to sneaking up on other members of the guild whenever the opportunity came. At first a couple of them were annoyed, but as she explained the purpose, the Family, except Festus of course, embraced it and not only helped by trying to sneak up on her as well, but also made sure that Astrid didn't find out. They all hoped that the rookie would get the better of their leader. She quickly learned that if she was to sneak up on Arnbjorn, she better be downwind. She also sparred with anyone willing. She quickly became ever more proficient at fighting with daggers against all kinds of weapons.

A couple of weeks later, the time came.

"She iss ready Misstressss." Veezara proclaimed to Astrid as she was standing over her table.

"Already?" the matron was surprised how quickly the shadowscale had returned. "She is truly ready to be tested again?"

"Of coursse, Misstressss." The Argonion replied. "You told me not to bring her to you before it wass time."

"Such a short time." The matron of the Dark Brotherhood mused. "Still the overachiever, it seems."

"Indeed, Misstressss. I haven't sseen one abide in the shadowss as she in a long time. She sstill needss to masster fighting with her daggerss, but if she remainss cautiouss and unsseen, she should do quite well."

"I see. Where is …"

Astrid's forthcoming question was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.

"You're dead." She heard Sable's voice full of glee just behind her right ear.

Astrid spun to face her newest sister grinning brilliantly. For a short moment, she was a bit angry at being tricked, but the emotion quickly melted to intrigue as she considered just how much Sable had improved in such a short time. "Well, well. Impressive. Let's see how good you've become. Let the game begin."

Astrid lifted a blindfold out of belt pocket on her armor and gave her a questioning look, as if challenging her to play the game in her guildmaster's domain. The fair-skinned Nord, closed her eyes and leaned forward a bit, accepting her mistress' challenge.

As the "victim", Astrid bested her just once. Sable sank herself into the techniques Veezara had taught her. Though she was blindfolded, it was almost as if she could still see. And not just see, but see the room from nearly every angle. It was like she could feel it when the shadows moved or when the stone around her accepted new weight upon even if it did so silently. Still, Astrid was very good. The matron's first two attempts got her within just a couple of steps from "striking". On Astrid's third and final attempt, Sable was straining to sense anything when she felt a pinch on the back of her leg just below her rump that made her jump in surprise. She could not suppress a small yelp either.

"You're dead." The silken voice called out, laden with amusement.

Sable turned and removed the blindfold to and looked down to her still crouching leader. Astrid was barefoot. The white haired assassin smirked.

"Copying the little sister's methods?" she asked with the satisfaction of a fox in a chicken coop.

"Adapting." Astrid replied with a smirk of her own. "A promising young recruit once showed me the value of it. Ready to see how you do as the predator?"

In answer, the "promising young recruit" tossed the blindfold to Astrid and began to walk from the small room.

Sable got to her leader on the first attempt and almost had her on the second when Astrid called her out. They were even with one attempt left. There was no way she was losing the game, especially as the predator. And there was no way she was going barefoot to accomplish the win. She had to one up her mistress. Then an idea came to her and she had to suppress a giggle at the thought.

She stalked silently into the room spotting her target. But instead of making straight for the blindfolded woman, she took a more circuitous route. Every step was painstakingly slow as she silently and carefully made her way around Astrid. There were times that she simply waited in one spot when she picked up the subtle movement of her prey shifting her weight from one foot to the other every so often. This was taxing her abilities to their limits, but she just had to pull this off.

She paused about halfway through her circle around Astrid at an unremarkable vase that held a growing deathbell plant. This was the big gamble in her attempt to one up her mistress. Sable slowly and silently drew a dagger and brought it up to the flower's stem. She gently eased the stem against her blade until it finally gave way without a sound. Sheathing her dagger, and placing stem in her teeth, she resumed stalking around the edge of the room.

She was now directly in front of Astrid. One more step and she was there. Her hazel-eyed prey was still unaware. Here it was. She had her. Quickly, Sable stood up and pushed the stem of the deathbell flower into her matron's hair.

Startled, Astrid yelped loudly and jumped a couple of steps backwards. She tore the blindfold off before noticing the deep purple and blue flowers hanging above her forehead. She stared daggers at her white haired sister, her face flushed red in anger. Sable was having trouble suppressing the giggles at seeing how ridiculous her leader looked. It was then that they both looked to Veezara, who had been standing in a corner to watch how his protégée would perform, and saw his eyes wide and mouth hanging open at what he had just witnessed. The sight of their reptilian brother standing in shock was too much and both women burst into laughter. Astrid walked over to Sable and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Well done, sister. That was the most impressive win I've ever seen at the game. I hope to never accept a flower from you again."


	7. Chapter 7

Just a day later, Astrid approached Sable as she was sitting at the table in a cave used as a dining area in the large complex of caves the Dark Brotherhood called home. Gabriella and Babette had joined her for her evening meal.

"I have a contract for you, my little white deathbell." She stated. "This will be your first major contract." The newest member of the Family beamed at hearing she was being entrusted with an important assignment. "An apothecary's assistant name Muiri has performed the Black Sacrament. You are to go Markarth and discuss the contract with her. Report back when the contract is done."

"Are there any special rules I need to take into account for this contract?"

Astrid turned a puzzled look on her newest sister for a moment before realizing what might be the cause of such a strange question.

"Thieves guild habits hard to let go of, perhaps?" She answered. "Just don't get killed, sister. I suspect we just wouldn't be the same without you."

There was a matter of fact quality to her voice that Sable found interesting. It didn't bother her, she realized, but interesting. She wondered how many Astrid had sent on their first contracts that never came back. She also vowed to never ask a stupid question again. To the Void with the thieves and their silly rules.

"How unusual." Gabriella stated a moment after their mistress had left the room.

"What do you mean?" Sable asked.

"Astrid usually visits those wishing to hire us herself and sets up the contracts and their details and then returns and passes them on to us." The dunmer replied. "It's exceedingly rare for her to opt for one of us to meet the contract, let alone that person be our newest member."

Oddly enough there didn't seem to be any trace of jealousy in the dark elf's voice.

"Then why would she send me?" Sable asked, suddenly unsure of what earlier seemed a moment to look upon with pride. Was Astrid so upset about the game that she was trying to get her in some kind of trouble or even killed by sending her into a trap? If that was the case, then the guild's matron was a darn good actress.

"She must trust in you and your abilities a great deal," Gabriella answered and, as if reading her thoughts, added, "I don't think she means you harm. I don't think you've angered her in any lasting way."

"What makes you so sure?"

"The nickname for one." The dunmer answered reassuringly. "She spoke it as a term of endearment. There was no malice in her voice that I heard. I think you really impressed her when you stuck the flower in her hair. Perhaps this is her way of showing you that by trusting you to meet with a contract yourself."

The story of Sable's besting of Astrid at the game had spread quickly and she was still basking in the glory of it a day later.

"It's great, isn't it!" Babette chimed in. "Our white deathbell is growing up. Perhaps someday, all of Skyrim will speak of the White Deathbell in hushed and fearful tones."

Laughter broke out among the three women.

"Yes, and mothers will use the legend to scare their children into behaving," Gabriella added.

It was then, that Sable had an idea. The Legend of the White Deathbell sounded intriguing. She had seen the power legends could hold over people, especially once the dragons had returned. Could she really exert that much influence and sway over a whole nation? The laughter had stopped now that Babette and Gabriella had seen the look on her face.

"Babette," the newly christened White Deathbell turned to the child looking vampire, "Could I persuade you to help me with an experiment in horticulture?"

A smile drew across the face of the guild's resident green thumb. "Sounds like that devious mind of yours has thought of something positively wonderful. Of course, I'll help!"

Sable immediately got up from the table, turned and made for the alchemy room. Babette, got up and chased after her.

Once in the cave, her pale blue-silver eyes swept her surroundings. The room was empty with the exception of Lis, Gabriella's frostbite spider that had made her nest in the lower section of the chamber. Sable was still trying to get used to the large spider. She'd had to defend herself from frostbite spiders many times and though Lis had never made an aggressive gesture towards her and even seemed quite domesticated, the sight was still a bit disconcerting to her. She wondered if her initial instinct to grab out a dagger would ever subside. She had to push it from her mind though. She had called Babette in here for something very important.

"So, little sister," Babette's child voice rang out from behind her, "what kind of concoction has your pretty head dreamed up?"

"I'm not looking to develop a potion or poison, Babette." Sable answered. "But since you're a master alchemist, I figured you would be the person to tell me whether or not what I want to do is even possible."

The forever child looked intrigued but didn't respond other than to lift an eyebrow in a look of curiosity.

"Babette, how difficult is it to change a flower?"

"Change a flower into what?" the vampire asked.

"To change its appearance." Sable clarified. "How hard is it to change a flower's color? To change the shade of its petals."

"That depends. If you're looking to make it a darker color, we could simply dye it."

Sable took a step over to one of the many planters and plucked the head from the stem of a deathbell and held it up for Babette. Understanding flooded the eldest assassin's eyes.

"You want to create a white deathbell?" Babette asked with wonder. "It would take cross pollinating the plants for generations. If it's even possible. Why would you want to do this?"

"Power!" The curvy, white haired assassin answered empathically, but almost breathlessly.

"What do you mean?" the vampire questioned with a large dose of caution in her voice.

"You and Gabriella said it earlier, the Legend of the White Deathbell. A name to be feared throughout all of Skyrim."

"We were only joking around, Sable. Just a bit of fun to celebrate your first major contract and to inspire what you may become, a master assassin."

"It doesn't matter that it was meant in fun." The excited Nord woman leaned forward, now holding the small bit of stem in both hands in front of her. "The words were an inspiration. To hold that kind of power over an entire nation. To be a legend. How many times does one have that chance? I must try."

Babette was astonished. The idea her friend had was so ambitious, it perhaps bordered on insanity. It was one thing for a person to become a legend many years after they passed, but to attempt to make oneself into a legend was almost grandiose to the point of delusion. Still it intrigued her; she wanted to see if her new sister could indeed force herself as a legend onto an unsuspecting Skyrim. She knew then that she was a full believer in the White Deathbell.

"Of course I will help you in this, I'm not just sure that what you're asking can even be done."

"Please try, Babette." Sable pleaded. "I bet you've forgotten more about plants and alchemy than I will ever know. If anyone can do this, I'm sure it's you."

Babette smiled. "You can stop trying to butter me up now. You're not very good at it anyway." She stuck her tongue out at her. "Of course I will help you, sister."

* * *

Markarth had provided a bit of excitement. While the journey there was rather uneventful and boring, she must have walked through the city gates at just the right time. A moment after she entered the city, a man standing at one of the many open market stalls just inside the city pulled out a dagger and plunged it into the back of a woman standing near him shouting something about glory and the Forsworn. The woman fell to the ground bleeding profusely, immediately followed by screams which alerted two of the city guards that began running over to see what the commotion was.

The man turned and saw Sable and charged straight for her. She had worn a rather plain blue dress in order to avoid attracting attention to herself and he apparently thought of her as an easy escape route. As soon as he began his run at her, the fair-skinned assassin subtly drew a dagger of her own.

Two steps away, the man reversed his grip on his dagger and drew his right arm back in what was certain to be the precursor to a wild attack. She reversed her grip as well so that the blade ran along her forearm. It appeared that he hadn't noticed that this innocent looking woman was armed as well. Another step and he swung his arm in a high arc, trying to slash at her neck or chest.

Sable easy ducked his arm, but kept her weight on her left foot using it to pivot around his right hip. As she completed her circle around her now surprised attacker, she brought her right arm up, swinging her hand out so the blade was now perpendicular to her arm. There was a dull thud as the dagger slammed into the man's back up to the hilt. The man fell dead instantly, his spine severed from the disguised assassin's counterstrike.

The guards ran over and Sable now found herself with a crowd of both guards and onlookers. So much for remaining inconspicuous. One of the guard's statements confirmed her frustration.

"Well, you certainly know how to handle yourself, don't you?" The guard blurted out obviously astonished by what he had seen. "Still, my thanks for not letting that scum escape. If you don't mind, we'll need to ask you some questions about what happened."

Sable knew better than to refuse the request. The guard was not asking, but rather stating what he was expecting of her. She needed to meet with her contract, Muiri, and that meant she would have to indulge the idiot's "investigation" and endure a delay.

She answered the guards' questions honestly, but the delay kept her until the sun was beginning to set. Although she had arrived to the city late in the afternoon, it still annoyed the white-haired assassin that she was setback and would have to wait until the next day to make contact with the apothecary's assistant. After explaining yet again that she hadn't seen much; only that the lunatic had murdered the woman before coming at her and that she had simply defended herself, Sable was finally allowed to leave and found the Silver-Blood Inn.

She purchased a room and a meal and went to a corner of the main hall to eat. She found that the story of her dropping the Forsworn fanatic was already the exciting topic of the day. As she overheard one recounting of how she had cut the man's head off, it surprised her how quickly the exaggerating had started. She rose and went to her room to rest before moving on to her true reason for coming to Markarth in the morning.

* * *

A brief conversation with the inn keeper the next morning pointed Sable to The Hag's Cure, the only apothecary in Markarth. She chose to fit her dress over her leather armor provided to her by the Dark Brotherhood as best she could. The dress strained a bit in places and looked odd with small peeks black and red leather, but otherwise it was serviceable.

The fair-skinned assassin made her way through the town and up several flights of stairs to get to the higher terraces of the city until she came to a section of the city where several of the city's "buildings" where built right into the stone of the mountain. A wooden sign painted simply with what looked like a bottle full of liquid marked one door as an alchemy shop.

Sable pushed open the heavy doors and walked into The Hag's Cure. There were a few stairs leading down to a slightly depressed level after a short hallway. Just beyond the stairs, behind an L shaped counter, stood a rather old woman.

"I'm looking for Muiri," the assassin stated as she reached the woman.

"Muiri! Someone is asking for you." The crone rasped loudly looking to her left.

Sable turned her gaze to her right where the woman looked and saw a pretty young Breton rise from an alchemy table and walk over. She was about a head shorter than the white haired Nord with short light brown hair with a single braid running from the top of her head down the her left side to tuck behind her ear. She also had a facial tattoo consisting of two light blue stripes running from her cheekbones horizontally under eyes until not quite meeting near the bridge of her nose.

"May I help you?" The assistant asked.

Sable looked to the old woman that hadn't moved away from the counter. "If you'll excuse us, I have a private matter to discuss with Muiri."

"Bah, this is my shop," the old woman replied. "I don't have to leave. You can take yer business outside."

"That's fine." The assassin replied. "Join me outside, Muiri."

The alchemy apprentice followed the taller woman outside. As soon as she was outside, she turned a corner and found a somewhat empty stretch of the street.

"You requested that the Dark Brotherhood contact you using the Black Sacrament." Sable didn't figure there was much point in beating around the bush.

"It … it actually worked?" The Breton's voice full of confusion and perhaps awe, "I wasn't sure the Dark Brotherhood existed anymore. Are you really an assassin?"

"Indeed I am." Sable pulled aside some of the drab dress to reveal some of her black and sanguine leathers. "So, tell me. What is the contract you're offering?"

"I want you to kill Alain Dufont." Muiri's voice hardened with bitterness and pain. "I want him hunted down and murdered like the dog he is."

"I need more to go on than that." Sable prompted after a moment of silence.

"Of course, sorry." The assistant replied. "I did not know it when we were together, but Alain is actually the leader of a band of cutthroats … bandits. They're holed up in some old dwarven ruin. Raldbthar. It's near Windhelm. They use it as their base. It's where they stage their raids." The anger permeated her voice more and more as she talked. "I want you to go to that ruin, find Alain Dufont, and kill him. I do not care about his friends. Do whatever you want with them. But Alain has to die!"

"I see." Sable offered. "And payment?"

"Once Alain is dead, I'll pay you. In gold. I have saved up a bit. I hope that will do." The assassin was about to accept the contract and leave when Muiri spoke up again. "But … well … there is one more thing. If you're interested."

Sable turned back to her. "I'm listening."

"If you can, I want you to kill someone else as well. You don't have to. Not as part of our deal, but if you do I'll pay you even more." Without waiting for a response, the Breton continued. "It's Nilsine Shatter-Shield, in Windhelm. If Nilsine dies too, I'll make it worth your while."

Being her first contract, she wasn't sure if it broke the guild rules, but Sable was intrigued. She also figured there was more to this contract then she'd been told so far.

"Alright, tell me the full story. Why do you want Alain and Nilsine dead?"

Muiri took a breath to steady her nerves. "I went to Windhelm to see the Shatter-Shields. They were old and dear friends and in mourning. Frigga, their younger daughter, was killed recently. Murdered. I met Alain in a tavern while I was … drinking my sadness away. He was handsome … and charming. He said I was the beautiful lily of his dreams." Her voice was lower now, brimming with pain and sorrow. "Alain made all the pain just … go away. But it was all lies. Alain used me." The anger was now starting creep back into her voice. "He ruined my name, destroyed my friendship with the Shatter-Shields. Do you know why Alain was in Windhelm? He heard about Frigga's murder. He wanted to befriend the family in their grief and rob them blind! Alain used me to get close to my friends and now they all think I'm some kind of … monster. Alain took my life! And now I'm taking his."

"And Nilsine Shatter-Shield?" Sable asked. "Why does she need to die?"

"Don't you see? I was like a daughter to Tova." The Breton replied. "A sister to Nilsine and Frigga, but the family refuses to believe my innocence. No matter what I say. Couldn't they understand that I was used? That I was grieving for Frigga too? No! They treated me like garbage. Threw me away! With Nilsine dead, maybe then Tova will realize what she's lost, huh? Maybe then she'll see that I was just as much a daughter as the others. And if not … may she drown in her own tears!"

The assassin stood silent for a moment. Spiteful little thing, this one was. It was almost impressive.

"Is there anything else I should know about this contract?"

"I planned to kill Alain myself, you know. Nilsine too. But I lost my nerve. I even brewed a special poison. Lotus Extract. Maybe you could use it? Just coat your weapon with it. Then … you get the idea."

"I'll accept the contract." Sable announced trying to sound official. "It will be done."

"Make them pay for what they did to me!" Muiri answered.

The white haired assassin turned and walked away, leaving the apothecary assistant to return to her duties. Looked like she was in for another long boring carriage ride across Skyrim. Sable wondered if perhaps somehow Astrid knew about this and sent her as playful revenge for having bested her at the game.


	8. Chapter 8

And now here she was in the dwemer ruin of Raldbthar. She found that she loved this part. The hunt for her target. The blood of the four bandits spreading on the floor behind her. This is what she lived for. She was in her element. She was The White Deathbell.

Sable stalked silently in the shadows of a corridor that sloped down further into the earth. Large cylindrical pipes ran along the wall to her right. Not knowing anything about the old dwarven technology, she stayed away from them except when she was forced close to them in order to stay unseen in the shadows. At the bottom of the ramped hallway, the assassin came across her first real barrier.

The bandits had found an old dwemer fire trap and had cleverly rigged it to be constantly spewing a line of fire across the front of the gate on the far side of the room. Killing two birds with one stone, they had also set up a spit, using the same spout of fire to roast several skeever. There was no going around, through, or under the fire trap. There was an opening to another corridor to her left. She began to sneak toward the alternate route, hoping it would circle around in some way and still lead her to Alain Dufont.

After a couple of steps in, the new passage cut sharply to her right and sloped down putting the assassin on a course further still into the ground. She guessed that this was a high traffic passageway since it was much more well lit than some of the others. Up ahead she spotted another Dufont lackey. He was leaning against an opening on the left side of the corridor. By the look of things, he was trying very hard not to fall asleep. Because of the way the torches were placed, there was a length of shadow stretching from where he a standing away from the archway and down deeper into the passage. The hall was wide enough that if she hugged the large pipes on her side of the tunnel, she could stay in the shadows. Sable shook her head. She hoped that this Alain character would be more a challenge than the idiots he had guarding his hideout. She decided to have a bit of fun with this one.

A few moments later, she stepped out of the shadows in front of the sleepy man one step away. His eyes went wide as she just seemed to appear out of thin air. The White Deathbell, closed the step and plunged her steel dagger into his chest just above his sternum, puncturing both his artery and windpipe in a single thrust. The bandit fell away his mouth open in a silent scream of surprise and pain. His eyes remained wide open as the life fled from them. Sable took one step forward and looked through the archway. Beyond it was a small side room that was being used as sleeping quarters for a few of them. There were no others to be found there, so she melted back into the shadows and continued down the sloped hallway towards her prey.

A short while later, Sable rounded a corner on her right and was welcomed into a short passageway cloaked in darkness. There were no lit torch scones to either side of her. The passage was only a few steps long and opened into a large room. In the center of the room, was a decent size firepit, lit with a fire. On one side sat two bandits, a man and a woman. On the other stood a Breton man wearing fine clothes. The assassin did not like the scene. She could easily approach either side undetected, but her cover would be blown as soon as she took out either side. What did work in her favor was that the fire was the only source of light in the room save for a single torch on a ledge behind Dufont, leaving the edges cased in dark shadows.

She figured that going to the seated pair would be her best strategy. That way, when the show down came, it would be one against one. Besides, she just realized, she wanted this piece of trash to know what his con in Windhelm had earned him before he died.

"Are we going pull any raids soon, Dufont?" the man seated asked. "The job you pulled on the Shatter-Shields was nice and all, but some of the men are getting restless."

The man in the fine clothes, apparently Alain Dufont, answered. "You ask me a stupid question again and I'll kill you. I won't have you idiots questioning my leadership. Understood? We'll go on a raid when I say and not before."

Sable had been quietly stalking in the shadow on the right side of the room, opposite of her prey when she spotted a way to cause quite the scene. Up on the ledge at the far side of the room, she spotted a pair of ballistae aimed out over the lower expanse of the room. It would be sure to rattle Dufont if his two companions were suddenly killed by the giant dwarven crossbows. The singular torch on the wall didn't provide much light and she could probably scurry back out of sight before Alain turned his attention to her. But how was she going to get up there?

The assassin searched the edge of the room, her eyes having become quite used to seeing in dim or almost no light thanks to her time with the thieves guild. Her new Family had helped as well without even knowing it. With the exception of the crafting room and the dining hall, the Sanctuary was kept poorly lit as if everyone just felt more comfortable in the shadows. She soon spotted a staircase rising up to the ledge with the ballistae on the far side of the room from where she had entered. She finished crossing the room to reach the stairs, never once having to risk entering the light of the fire. There, she spotted a fourth bandit in the room. He was perched about half way up the stone steps looking down upon the proceedings around the fire, bow in hand.

Alain was starting to gain a small measure of respect in his predator's eyes. If she had cut down the two subordinates and then attacked Dufont, the archer would have wasted no time in emptying his quiver into her. She would have to create some sort of distraction that would get the bowman to leave his post, but still not alarm the others too much. If the distraction was up on the ledge, Dufont would likely send his sniper lackey to investigate rather than go himself.

Sable stooped to find a small stone and then heaved it to the far corner of the ledge above Dufont and the others. The minor clamor it made as it hit floor of the ledge and rolled up again the wall behind served perfectly. The two seated cutthroats rose to their feet immediately and drew their weapons.

Dufont looked to where the sound had come from and then to where he knew is archer to be. "Halver. Go look into that and report."

The assassin didn't even wait for the orders. She started up the steps towards Halver, as soon as he stood and put his back to her. She quietly took the steps 2 at a time to close the distance. He had reached the top of the stairs before she caught up with him. A couple of steps later, he was nearly into the torchlight. But he didn't quite make it.

Sable came up behind him and thrust her knife into his back. She held it horizontally so it would slip between his ribs. The blade sliced into his lung and stole the air from him. He could only make a squeak of a sound as she shoved him forward towards the torch.

From below, it looked like the man had tripped and went sprawling forward crashing into the sconce on mounted on the wall. It was ripped free from the wall as the dying man collided with it before slumping to the floor.

"Halver, you clumsy idiot!" Dufont screamed. "Get that torch back up and go figure out that noise was, now!"

With the added darkness awarded to her from the obstruction of the man's body, Sable quickly made her way to the giant crossbows and took aim. A moment later there was a loud click followed by an arrow the size of a tree limb spearing its way through the woman. Another moment later, another click followed and the man hit the floor speared through.

Dufont pulled up an iron warhammer resting nearby, but otherwise did not move, knowing the ballistae had been spent and his unseen attacker was out of spear sized ammunition.

A moment later, Sable stepped into the firelight opposite the startled Breton in all her dark glory clad in the black and dark red armor of the Dark Brotherhood. Her full red lips parted into a sinister smile.

"Muiri sends her regards."

Dufont returned her smile. "Muiri!? So, what, you're the cow's pathetic champion? Oh now that is rich. I hope you're here to make me some toast with those butter knives of yours."

"I don't how pathetic of an assassin I am," Sable returned, "As far as I can tell, you're the only one I haven't killed yet."

The smile disappeared from the bandit leader's face and was quickly replaced with a sneer. He brought the warhammer up into both hands. "Well then, champion," He spat, "let's get this over with."

The two circled each other for a moment. Sable knew her disadvantage was his reach. A swing from the warhammer could crush her skull well before she was in striking distance. However, the large two-handed hammer was also to her advantage. Something that heavy would be slow to swing. She was in a matchup of strength versus speed. Speed was guaranteed to win, provided it didn't get hit.

Dufont wasted little time. He charged forward with a roar holding his hammer high for a massive sweep, but as he closed the distance, he changed his grip and thrust the hammer out forward like it was a spear. The head of the weapon whistled forward, aimed at collapsing her chest and ending the fight quickly. Sable jumped back a step and brought both daggers down crossed in an X, catching the shaft of the hammer just below the head and deflected down towards the ground. With Dufont now extended and having missed, this was her chance to get inside his reach and strike.

The assassin raced forward not even trying to hold the block. She sidestepped the weapon and started towards the bandit leader ready to bury her daggers into his guts. But Dufont, recognizing that his gamble had been countered, ducked and rolled away.

They faced each other once more, Dufont having recovered his hammer. It was the cutthroat that initiated combat again. He came forward raising the warhammer up to bring it in a downward swing. Sable brought her dagger around in an arc. She had to get the timing right so that when the weapons made contact her counterstrike would be on the down-stroke so that the force of the blow would be mostly deflected away from her. To just block the strike and take the force of the blow with her daggers would be to absorb most of it herself. She learned that lesson hard way with Arnbjorn. She had come away from their very first sparring session with her arms numb for the rest of the day.

By her estimation, her timing was perfect. The brunt of the attack would end up sliding off to the side and, then with Alain overbalanced, she could jam a blade into his ribs. Unfortunately, Dufont changed his grip on the warhammer part way through the swing. He dropped his other hand to the bottom of the shaft. With both hands at the focal point of the swing, there would be much more power when the blow landed. It also meant there was a split-second change in the speed. Sable now knew it would crash in behind her arc.

The assassin held no pretense that she would be able to counter this change so she attempted to leap out of the way. The hammer came down a second later and ripped the dagger out of her trailing hand and just clipped her right foot. She rolled twice after landing from her desperate leap just to try to put some distance between her and her surprisingly skilled opponent.

As she stood, a numbing cold began to creep its way up her calf. The freezing intensified and became quite painful. It was enough to make her limp as she tried to regain her stance and circle with Dufont once more. The warhammer was enchanted with a frost effect. This was quickly irritating the white-haired assassin.

"What's the matter, champion?" Dufont taunted. "Is the touch of Aegisbane too much for you?"

Sable, concentrated on freeing herself from the cold. She was used to it after all. Being a Nord and having spent her whole life in Skyrim it sometimes seemed that she had a tolerance to it and she could resist the cold more so than others. Already she was beginning to feel the warmth return to her lower extremity.

She smiled and looked to her prey as she shook her right leg a bit. "It doesn't bother me much." She smirked at him. She took a step toward him without any sign of the disability.

Dufont growled but did not charge this time. He stalked in slowly, but still kept her at a distance so as not to let the assassin inside his reach. Sable knew she would have to very careful. She now only had one dagger. Anything but a glancing hit from the warhammer would likely end the fight in the Breton's favor. She had to find some way to draw him in so she could plant her blade in him.

The cutthroat was frustrated with the stand-off. Each of them now had a better measure of their opponent. It would have to end sometime, however. They couldn't just keep circling each other for hours. Someone would have to eventually make a move and he was getting impatient, but this beautiful Nord had already proved quite quick and agile. And then it happened. She was so focused on him, that she hadn't noticed a spot where the stone floor was uneven. She scuffed her foot against it and stumbled. Dufont roared in.

Sable knew he would fall for the opening she gave him. She brought herself out of the stumble and took a step to her right. Dufont realized the feint and his eyes went wide. He tried to stop himself but it was too late. He had committed and there was no going back. She took one step toward her target and sank her dagger into his left side. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment. She looked directly into his eyes wanting him to know that what was left of his life belonged to her. His response was a bit surprising.

"Is that it? Is that all you got?" He gruffly asked before slamming his forehead into her nose.

There was a sharp crack as the she roiled backwards, stunned in a flash of hot pain that caused her to lose her vision for a brief second. Her arms flailed outward to keep balance, leaving her last dagger in Dufont's side.

"Now, champion, I'm going to kill you slowly like the pathetic would-be assassin that you are."

Sable watched Dufont pull her blade from his stomach with a snarl. He began to walk toward her as blood quickly soaked through his shirt. She had mortally wounded him, she knew. He would bleed out and die. The trick would be outlasting him; staying alive until that happened. However, with the room still spinning like it was, that would be easier said than done.

The situation became even more desperate as she watched him pulled a small vial of red liquid from his shirt and bring it to lips. A moment later, the bleeding stopped and the wound at his side began to close. The Breton was annoying enough, but a healing potion put him over the top. No way was he leaving this place alive, she vowed to herself. Though weaponless and still dizzy with her own blood running down her face, she had no idea how she was going to fulfill that vow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ending the last chapter in the middle of the fight. (Then again, maybe not. ;) ) Enjoy the end of Dufont.  
> \- E.K.

As Dufont got closer, she did her best to back away from him and still keep her footing. The vertigo was beginning to subside, but the assassin would have still preferred another few minutes before being forced to move, let alone fight someone. She longed for the dark embrace of the shadows. If she could disappear into them, she could maybe find a weapon from one of Dufont's fallen comrades and end the fight, but certainly the blood dripping from her face would leave a trail for her opponent to follow.

That gave her an idea. Sable backpedaled into the shadows with a taunt.

"Come find me Dufont. That is, if you're not afraid of the dark."

Dufont, laughed. "You think you gain anything, champion? Your broken nose will lead me to you. It would be far easier for both of us if you just accept your fate. But if you have to make it a game, so be it."

Sable didn't listen to his rant. She had already been circling around to the stairs that led to the ledge overlooking the room. She scrambled up the steps on all fours, still fighting some lingering dizziness. At one point, the assassin reached up and pinched her nose. The pain made her wince, but she needed to make sure Dufont still had a trail to follow.

When she reached the top, she made for the dead archer and pulled two arrows from his quiver. She broke them in half and took the bladed points with her. They looked comical to be used as make shift daggers, but it was what she had. When she reached the far side of the ledge, she pinched her nose again; this time to hopefully stop the bleeding for a moment and then jumped off the ledge. She fell to all fours as she landed to muffle the sound of it as best she could before head back towards the stairs. Fortunately Dufont had been constantly taunting her as he followed the blood trail so it was unlikely he heard her landing over the sound of his own voice.

A few moments later his voice rang out again as he stood over the body of Halver.

"You plan to come at me with toothpicks now, champion? I hope you at least got paid up front and enjoyed what gold you could get out of her before coming to your death."

Sable was back on the ledge now as Dufont made his way to the other end to find his blood trail disappear. He looked to either side for a bit, trying to search out a new beginning to the morbid breadcrumbs he had been following.

"Where did you go, you horrid rat of a woman?" He questioned to himself. But Sable was already within hearing distance of her prey.

"Have you looked behind you?" She called out as she ran to close the distance.

As Dufont turned around to face her, Sable leapt into the air. His eyes went wide in surprise as she crashed into him, bringing him to ground underneath her. As she landed, Sable viciously thrust both arrow points into his throat. She ripped them back out not noticing that the small arrow blades broke off in his neck and stabbed the broken shafts back into his neck over and over again until there wasn't much left of it. Dufont was dead. Finally.

She rose off his body, her face covered in the blood of them both. She searched around a bit for her steel daggers. The tip of one had broken off when Dufont's hammer had knocked it from her hand. She found the other – the one with which she had stabbed the self-proclaimed bandit king – still intact.

She still had an appointment in Windhelm, but she was exhausted and still in pain from her broken nose. Slowly she sank down next to the fire in the middle of the room and passed out.

* * *

She woke shivering and having a hard time breathing. The fire had died out and left her in darkness and the blood had clotted leaving her nose congested. The only light was the dim glow of the pitch torches still lit in the hallways from which she had come. Her face still throbbed from the head-butt she had received from Dufont. Sable reached up and cleared the dried blood as best she could. Then grabbed her nose and wrenched it back into place.

Her scream echoed off the walls of the dwarven corridors and the blood started flowing anew. She didn't much feel like The White Deathbell as she grabbed the dead woman's fur cap and pinched it over her nose to try to stop the bleeding, hoping it wasn't riddled with some disease like Ataxia.

Sable grew angry with herself just then. Astrid's assessment of her had been accurate. She had let her confidence get the better of good judgment. It would have been only too easy to lay low in the shadows and strike as soon as Alain Dufont let his guard down. But in her arrogance, she assumed that her skills easily surpassed his and had nearly died from that assumption. In her attempt to show her leader wrong, she had only proved otherwise. She wondered if she should simply abandon her life as an assassin. Perhaps she could crawl back to the thieves guild and see if they would still take her back. Or perhaps she could go off on her own and set up a shop or farm and be miserable for the rest of her life. The one thing that she'd always been good at and even enjoyed had nearly got her killed because she had underestimated an opponent. She hadn't taken the time to watch and measure up Dufont and she had paid for it.

She sat in the silence for a while before realizing that it didn't matter. Her near failing in the assassination of Dufont didn't matter. What mattered was that she was still alive. Ultimately, she had proved to be more powerful. She would use this experience to harden and strengthen her knowledge and her skills. She was sharper now. Just as the deathbell flower always seemed to overcome Skyrim's harsh winters and thrive in places where most flowers would wither, The White Deathbell had overcome this challenge and would now be greater because of it. She got up and walked from the room, heading to the exit of Raldbthar hoping that it was daytime outside the ruin and she could get some warmth and wash her face off in the nearby river.

* * *

Sable once again found herself at The Hag's Cure in Markarth. Killing Nilsine had been almost laughably easy compared to the fight with Dufont. The white-haired assassin had spent a day following her target. It was a simple matter picking the lock while the family was asleep and dragging her blade across Nilsine's throat.

Once again, Bothela had kicked them out of her store to conduct their private business.

"Well, what news?" Muiri asked. "Is Alain …"

"Alain Dufont now lies dead." Sable confirmed when Muiri didn't finish.

"Thank you." The Breton woman truly sounded thankful. "That bastard got exactly what he deserved. And … Nilsine?"

"She is dead as well." The assassin said evenly.

"Oh, thank you again." Muiri said. "You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain. Please take this as payment … and as symbol of my gratitude."

The apothecary assistant pushed an unremarkable looking silver ring into her hand.

"What's this?" Sable asked. She could feel her anger rising. After what she went through, she just might have to kill Muiri if this was the entire payment.

"It's my ring," Muiri stated. "It's payment for … Nilsine. It's enchanted. It makes potions … or poisons you create more potent. I figure someone in your line of work would find that useful."

"And the payment for Alain Dufont. You mentioned being paid in gold." The assassin asked an edge finding its way into her voice.

"Yes, of course." The Breton replied. "I have a small chest of gold in my quarters in the shop. Under my bed. I hope it's enough. I've managed to save up 1200 septims."

Sable was not sure she could keep the surprise from her face. Together, they retrieved the rest of her payment. The chest was heavy enough that she hired a carriage back to Falkreath. It was an afternoon's walk from there to the Sanctuary.

As usual, Astrid was the first person Sable encountered as she was leaning over her table, ever planning the next move for the guild.

"Welcome home, sister." The silken voice of her guild leader purred. "We've missed …"

She stopped short as she turned and saw Sable.

"What happened to you?" The matron asked with genuine concern in her voice. "Your nose looks like it's been broken … and rather poorly re-set."

"I had a run in with a rather thick skull." The white-haired assassin explained. She so badly wanted to hide her stupidity in her encounter with Dufont, but somehow knew it would be futile to try to lie to her leader. "I underestimated my target and had a harder time fulfilling the contract than I should have." Sable hung her head. For some inexplicable reason, she felt like a child that had disappointed a beloved parent.

Astrid gently lifted her newest sister's eyes from the floor. "Don't despair, sister. All of us have done the same at some point. Just be sure to learn from the experience though. You've have a promising career as an assassin in front of you. Don't let it be cut short. Now I do want to hear all about the contract, but first, let's get you to Gabriella and see what she can do for your nose. You can leave your gold here. I'll see to it that it's brought to your room."

Astrid led Sable through the network of caves that served as the Dark Brotherhood's Sanctuary to her room.

"Go ahead and get settled and lie down. I will return shortly with Gabriella."

Sable sighed. She was exhausted after her ordeal with the bandit leader. She peeled off her leather armor and pulled a pretty dress from her wardrobe. It was ivory trimmed in pale green. It was made of a soft, light material and just flowed around her curves rather than hugging them. It was a very comfortable dress and she looked very pretty in it she thought. The assassin couldn't help twirling around a couple of times with a gleeful smile on her face. She then fell into the bed and waited for Astrid to return with her dunmer sister.

A moment later there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come." Sable called out tiredly.

The door opened and she looked over to see a whole committee of people. Behind Astrid was Gabriella, Babette, Nazir and Veezara.

"Welcome back, sister." Nazir's deep voice boomed. "Glad to see you've returned in one piece. Mostly anyway."

Sable smiled at Nazir's barb. "Sorry to disappoint you, brother." She returned.

"My only disappointment would've been if you hadn't returned at all." The Redguard replied sincerely.

"I am glad to ssee that I sstill have a chance to ssomeday play the game with you, ssisster." Veezara rasped.

Babette ran up to the side of her bed. "So glad you're back Sable." She exclaimed. "Gabriella and I have a present for you. We'll show you when you're all done here."

Before she could reply, Astrid shooed them all out except for Gabriella and herself.

"As you probably know already, Gabriella is a practitioner of restoration magic. She has agreed to repair the damage to your nose. With your permission, I will remain as well and do my best to comfort you while she works."

Sable, confused, but not wanting to question what her matron had said, nodded her consent.

"Try not to move." Astrid offered before nodding to the dark elf.

Gabriella looked down to Sable with a look of concern before bringing her hand just above her face. She closed her eyes and started whispering. Sable couldn't catch the words, but a moment later a yellow-gold light began to emanate from the dunmer's hands. It expanded over her face until she was forced to close her eyes against the brightness. Then she felt a warmth begin to permeate her face. Then came a pain beyond anything he had ever felt.

She grunted as it slammed into her. Her every muscle locked. Astrid's voice was at her ear.

"Try not to move my white deathbell. The pain is exquisite. I know. But you can't let it overtake you. Hold on to my voice and do your best to endure it. Just stay with me sister."

She was glad then that she had consented to her matron staying with her. Without her voice, she would have been lost in the pain as she felt cartilage and bone snap and reposition themselves and fuse back together. She desperately clung to Astrid's silken voice as her only way to resist the blackness trying to overtake her.

Finally the brightness receded.

"It is done mistress. The damage had been undone." Gabriella said to Astrid. Then kneeling close to Sable's ear, she softly spoke condolences, her voice full of sorrow. "I'm sorry, sister. I hope to never have to do such a thing for you again, but know I will never refuse it to you."

As she was coming back to her senses, Sable realized she was panting to catch her breath. Sweat was beading from her forehead and it seemed that every bone and muscle in her body ached. She had been exhausted before, but now she just wanted to roll over and sleep for days.

"Rest for now." Astrid said, always seeming to know what was in her thoughts. "Come and see me once you've recovered and give me a full report. There is no rush. Take your time. Sleep well, sister."

Sable relaxed and let sleep take her.


	10. Chapter 10

She woke in darkness. The ensconced candles had burned to the wick and gone out; the only light peeked in from the hallway through the crack at the bottom of her room door. Sable reached up and touched her nose. Surprisingly, there was no pain; no tenderness. She was glad for that. The actual healing had been horrifyingly painful. Her nose seemed to be exactly as it was before her encounter with Dufont.

She pulled the fur covers off herself and rose up. She was still in the ivory and pale green dress. Though it now clung to her in places where it had soaked through with sweat during the healing of her face and then dried again afterwards while she slept. Sable walked across the room and cracked her door open a bit to get some more light. Her eyes stung for a moment with the banishment of darkness. A moment later, after her eyes had adjusted, she pulled two new candles from her desk and lit them using a torch outside her room. There was no one in the hallway beyond her door and she was actually relieved. The white-haired assassin wasn't sure she was ready for the attention of the entire Family just yet.

Back inside, she set the two candles in goat horn scones on opposite sides of the room so she could have enough light to re-dress but still leave it dim enough for her eyes. Sable initially went for her favorite hip-hugging red dress trimmed in cream and gold, but when she felt the weight of it decided otherwise. It was made of a heavy material and she didn't want put on any more weight than she had to. She decided on a dress made of a much lighter material. It was dark green with pale violet embroidery twisting its way up the sides. This one held tight against the curves of her body before flowing out at her waist.

She turned this way and that before snuffing the candles and heading out to find Astrid. She didn't have to search long as Astrid was coming down the corridor carrying a plate of food.

"Up already. Still the overachiever I see."

"How long did I sleep?" Sable asked.

"Only through the night. It is late morning now. The Family has just finished breakfast and I was coming to leave some fruit in your room. I would imagine one might be hungry after such an ordeal."

Sable wasn't sure if her leader was referring to the contract, the healing session, or both. Still she took an apple.

"Would you like to talk in your room?" Astrid offered.

"That would be nice."

Once back inside her room, she grabbed a few more candles. Astrid set the tray of fruit down and lit one using the torch outside and then passed the flame to each candle within until there was a warm glow.

"So tell me all about your first major contract." Astrid requested as they both sat down.

Sable re-counted the whole trip. She did her best to not omit any detail, even telling about the extra hit that Muiri had offered and she completed. Astrid seemed unfazed by it and said little throughout the dialogue. Her leader's brow furrowed a bit as she recounted how she had introduced herself to Dufont, but Astrid did not interrupt to chide her in the slightest. Her hazel eyes lit up with amusement and she smiled when Sable told her how she had ultimately bested the bandit leader.

"Nicely done, turning his overconfidence against him." The matron of the Dark Brotherhood congratulated. "We don't normally take on more than one victim per contract. However, I can see why you choose to do so and will not say anything further on it. You did well." Astrid rose to leave. "And now I suggest you go see the rest of the Family. They should be gathered in the dining hall. They have been waiting to see you."

"May I ask, mistress, why did you not warn me of the pain beforehand?" Sable inquired. Astrid sat back down.

"You speak of the healing of your broken nose I assume?" Sable nodded. Astrid's answer seemed tinged with sorrow. "Never have I warned a family member that required it the first time. I have always viewed it as sort of a tough love. Healing can be quite painful and the assassin that has experienced and remembers that pain as a tendency to be more careful and not need it nearly as often." The matron seemed unbothered by her recruit's darkened countenance. "I am truly sorry you had to go through it. I have required Gabriella's talents in the past, so I have a very good idea of what you endured. I hope the experience will serve you well in the future."

Sable's face softened. While it had been horrible to endure, Astrid had put her through it for her own good. She very much seemed a mother pained by knowing her children would learn a lesson best by enduring it the hard way.

"Come. Let's not keep the others waiting any longer."

Sable followed Astrid through the corridors leading to the common room that served as the dining hall. All of the guild members were gathered and, as she came into view, welcomed her warmly. Well, almost all of them did so. Festus was standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest, looking grumpy as usual. He was probably only there because Astrid ordered him to be. She didn't care. He was just an old curmudgeon anyway.

Once they made their way down, Astrid quieted them all. At her prompting, Arnbjorn brought forward a sack and handed it to Sable. Sable opened the sack and found a pair of boots in it. They appeared to be the exact same boots that had been given to her when she had first arrived. Thick leather dyed black and dark red.

"Today," Astrid called out, "our newest sister has proven herself worthy of the Dark Brotherhood. Having completed her first major contract, she is to be celebrated and held in high esteem by the Family. We all look forward to her career in the shadows." She then looked directly at Sable. "Kill well. Kill often."

There was a loud cheer by all gathered as they celebrated their sister's first great achievement. She couldn't help but smile as she felt her cheeks flush.

"We called them Shrouded Boots. They're enchanted." Astrid said to her as the clamor died down a bit. "That's what makes them special. While you're wearing them, your movements will not be heard. Perhaps with your skill at stealth, you may not even need them, but it I'm sure it would honor the Family whenever you wore them."

Sable looked at her in awe. The no one had ever given her anything so valuable. She felt nearly overwhelmed at that point. Of course she would wear them. She might not ever take them off. Astrid smiled warmly at her before telling her to enjoy this day and slipping away.

All the rest talked to her for a while and welcomed her back. They had demanded a full re-counting of her contract. She left out nothing, giving them every detail, knowing they accepted her and any judgments made on their part would be imparted as wisdom to help her improve. She knew that they only wanted to see her get better and better at her craft. It was odd, but this band of assassins was more of a family to her than anything she had previously. Tears of joy rolled down her face every now and then throughout the afternoon and evening. She was truly loved here, she knew. It was strange to her, but wonderful as well.

Eventually, Babette found her, a sheepish look on her face.

"Remember when I said Gabriella and I had present for you?"

Sable nodded.

"Well, in my excitement, I spoke too soon. It's not ready yet. Do mind waiting a bit before I show you?"

"Not at all, Babette," she giggled, "Come find me whenever you're ready."

* * *

Later that night, when she had returned to her room, Sable tried on her new boots. Just as Astrid had told her, she made not a sound as she stepped around the room. In delight, she jumped several times stomping her feet on the floor. The silence was startling. She smiled again and found her cheeks hurt slightly as she had been smiling almost the whole night. She would certainly have some fun in these.

About a week later, Arnbjorn found her and asked for a moment of time. Sable followed him to the area where he kept his anvil and forge.

"Listen, hamshank." He started seeming a bit nervous. "I have something for you. I've been working on it since you told us how your dagger was ruined. It hadn't occurred to me til then that I while I ain't no quartermaster or anything, you should probably be better equipped than pair of common steel daggers. So … uh … here. I want you to have these."

He reached back to behind him and picked up a box off his workbench and gave it to her. Sable opened the box to find two perfectly crafted elven daggers inside. They were beautiful. The silvery curved blade melded into a very dull gold colored metal shaped to roughly resemble the wings and tail of a bird of prey. The handle had a slight curve to it and had the same dull golden metal criss-crossing over tight padded leather to serve as the feathers of the bird while also improving the grip. At the base of the handle, the pommel was shaped into the hawk's head. In general there were no round edges to the embellishments on the dagger, but there was no doubt the creature they made and that a great deal of skill and time was required to craft them.

"How did you make these so fast?" She asked in astonishment.

"Well the wolf in me doesn't allow me to rest much and there's not much else to do at night when everyone is sleeping." He explained before his gruffy façade returned. "Now, don't you lose or damage those daggers. The refined moonstone and quicksilver is a pain in one's shank to shape and I'll not see my hard work go to waste. You hear?"

Sable closed and clutched the box to her chest, beaming at him. "Thank you, Arnbjorn. I will treasure them as I do my own life." She rushed forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Bah, get out of here, tidbit." He cried out. "I'm already married." He shooed her out of his forge area, but there was no need. She was already running off towards her room to stow away her precious gift.

Having stored the box, Sable was just closing the door to her room when Babette found her.

"I'm ready for you to see it now." The vampire chimed.

"See what, Babette?"

"Your present. Come see it!" Babette grabbed her hand and led her to the crafting room. "Close your eyes and no peeking."

Sable did as directed placing her hands over her eyes. She felt the false child's hand take hold her elbow and lead her to the table in the middle of the room.

"Okay, you can open them."

The Nord removed her hands and opened her eyes. Babette and Gabriella were standing on the opposite side of the table watching anxiously for her to spot her present and enjoy her reaction.

Sable's gaze eventually drifted down and, there on the table, she spotted a small planter with a very young deathbell plant sprouting a single bunch of white petals. Her mouth dropped open as she sat, cupping the clay pot in both hands.

"How did you do this so fast? It's only been a couple of weeks." She wasn't sure she could take any more surprises that day.

"It was mainly Gabriella." Babette explained, quite enjoying the reaction she was seeing. "I mentioned your little project to her shortly after you left. She was the one that had the idea of using Alteration magic to change the appearance of the flower. She ensorcelled the seed and I then planted it and used every trick I knew to nurture it and get it to grow."

"Babette makes it sound simpler than it really was, but as you can see we managed it." Gabriella clarified.

"Yeah, who knew that such a small flower seed could explode that violently?" The child vampire chimed in.

"Were you injured?" Sable asked.

"No," Gabriella stated, "though there were some rather … lively afternoons in here."

"This is wonderful." The Nord exclaimed.

"You'll still have to let it grow for a while." Babette explained. "Obviously it's still too young to have its flowers plucked yet. But I'll take care of it and let you know as soon as it's strong enough."

Sable turned her gaze back to the white flower and took it in. She was overjoyed. Soon a new terror would be unleashed upon Skyrim. Her name would become renowned; something to be feared. The legend of The White Deathbell had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that has followed along so far. I so appreciate it. The next chapter will start the complete break from the Dark Brotherhood story line and move forward into the largest part of the story which will be my own original fiction. I hope you all enjoy what's to come. I look forward to any comments.  
> \- E. K.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts the much larger over-arching plot of Sable's tale. It is my own original story that does not follow any game story lines very closely (if at all), although there will be familiar characters and locales. Thanks again to everyone that has followed along and enjoyed the story. Hope you continue to do so.  
> -E.K.

What about the end of your life?" The old man, a priest of Arkay, asked.

The question caught the white-haired, curvy assassin off guard and she paused. What had caused anyone to want a feeble old priest of Arkay dead, she had no idea, but it didn't matter. A contract was a contract. He had been easy to find and she hadn't expected any real resistance so she had revealed herself and the intentions behind her visit to his temple. What she hadn't expected was the conversation he had engaged her in. He had recognized her affiliation with the Dark Brotherhood immediately from her black and dark red leather armor and had simply questioned why it was she did what she did. She explained that she enjoyed power and that power over another's life or death was the highest form of power to which one could attain. And then his simple question stopped her cold.

"What do you mean by that priest?" She asked back to him.

"Do you have any power over your own life?" He asked again.

"Of course I do, old man." The assassin spat back. "I've held my own life in my hands since I was barely a woman. I am solely responsible for my life and none have proven more powerful over it than I."

"So you don't plan on aging?" The old man asked, his steel gray eyes focusing on hers. "Death is as natural as birth. It is a part of Arkay's cycle of life. What happens when you grow old like myself? What power do you have then?"

Her countenance darkened. Just what exactly would happen to her when she grew too old to carry out assassinations? Would a knife eventually find its way into her back? Would she die on bed too feeble to fight back as she coughed out her last breaths? With those horrifying thoughts circling, the priest took her pause as a sign he would possibly get her to see reason and continued.

"No one has the power to extend their life beyond it's time."

"Of course one can." She said snapped back from her thoughts. "What of Talos, The Hero of Kvatch, The Nerevarine? These legends live beyond their time."

"And are any of these still alive?" The priest rebuffed her argument almost without effort it seemed. "Only their names remain for a time. Eventually legends fade as well. There is no shame in death. Indeed, on the contrary, it is the fulfillment of divine ordinance that …"

Sable's elven dagger being plunged hilt deep into his chest stopped his speech. His eyes went wide as they looked into hers, smoldering in rage.

"Tell me, priest of Arkay, how glorious do you feel now?" The White Deathbell asked venomously to the no longer hearing shell of an old man as she wrenched her dagger from his body. It crumpled to a heap in an ever spreading pool of blood. Sable pulled a small white flower and let it fall to a rest on top of the now dead old man. She then turned and stalked angrily from the temple to collect her payment from the contract.

"The pay for this had better be worth it." Sable snarled to herself.

* * *

Sable made her way quickly back to the client and then back to the Sanctuary afterwards. The words of the priest of Arkay continued to haunt her and she uncharacteristically took another assignment immediately. She hoped that keeping herself busy would drown out the disconcerting feeling of one day being completely powerless and helpless.

It kept finding its way insidiously into the edge of her concentration, however as she slipped through the underground corridors of one of many of Skyrim's cave complexes that served as some lowlife's hideout. Strangely there was no resistance as the assassin made her way silently towards her target. There were no guard or others of any kind. The ease of the infiltration was unnerving.

Eventually she made her way to a dark cavern with a single shaft of light breaking through the near pitch dark. She didn't know how, but she somehow knew that the small circle of illuminated floor in the cavern was in the exact center of the room. She looked up, following the shaft of light up, but couldn't see any discernible source of it.

As her gaze came back down, suddenly there was a hooded figure standing in the light. Sable was sure she hadn't seen him there before. She was about to move forward supposing him to be her target when suddenly everything just felt wrong. The figure turned and looked directly at her. She was still deep in the shadows. There was no way he could have spotted her, but yet he was looking her right in the eyes.

The figure lifted the hooded and Sable gasped. It was the old man; the priest of Arkay. But how could he still be alive? She had watched him die. But there was no doubt in her mind it was him. He had the same steel gray eyes, the same long beard twisted into a knot just below his chin.

"Did I not tell you, my dear." He said smiling. He pointed a gnarled finger at her. "No one can escape death. You are not as powerful as you think."

As he finished, the light in the cave widened. As it did, she saw piles of dead bodies all over the floor. Her horror increased as she realized they were all bodies of people she had killed. She recognized Alain Dufont, the abusive innkeeper that had been her first kill, all of them.

As the light washed over her, her hair became thin and began falling out. Then she felt something in her mouth. She spit the object out into her hand and saw it was her tooth. It was just the beginning as the rest of them began tumbling from her mouth. She watched as the skin on her hand deflated and then stretched thin over bones. Her armor suddenly went loose and felt quite heavy.

She brought her hands to her face and felt the deep sagging wrinkles in her cheeks and around her mouth. And then she didn't feel her fingers touching anymore. She pulled her hand away and saw that it was crumbling to dust. The disintegration began working its way up her arm.

She fell to the ground as her feet and legs turned to dust as well. A silent scream burst forth from her as she lay on the floor of some unknown cave literally wasting away. She heard the old priest laughing at her as everything went black and she died, crumbling away to nothingness.

* * *

Sable woke with a start panting heavily as if she had been screaming. Her white hair was plastered to her face and neck and she shivered uncontrollably despite having been under the warm fur blankets of her bed. She was drenched in sweat and it was taking every bit of her to reign in the feeling of sheer terror that threatened to overwhelm her.

Just as she thought she might lose her grip on herself, the door to her room burst open. Even with the warm light of the corridor outside offering her a quick and gentle salvation from her fear, it took her several deep breaths to reclaim her own mind.

"Are you alright, sister?" the voice of Gabriella sounded out full of worry. Initially it sounded like a clanging gong that reverberated through head. She never thought that such a thing could sound so comforting before then. She looked over with partially wild eyes and saw the dunmer also in night clothes, but holding a short sword each hand. Behind Gabriella stood Veezara and Nazir similarly armed and half dressed.

As moments passed others began to show up.

"Sister?" Gabriella repeated even more insistently when there was no response "You are alright, sister?"

Sable focused back on her dark elf friend. "How … How … uh …" She couldn't seem to manage any more than that.

"We heard your scream." Gabriella explained crossing the room and kneeling before her. "It sounded like death itself."

Upon hearing the poor choice of words, her nerves threatened to take over again. "Yes! It was death itself, Gabriella. It was death. I couldn't stop it!" Sable began quivering again.

Gabriella moved up and sat on the bed and held her sister gently rocking her. One hand lit up with a light blue energy sending calming magic into her friend to soothe her. The dark elf looked to the crowd.

"I suspect she will be okay. You can all go back to bed." As they began to turn away, she add, "Babette, please stay with us as well. Will someone please fetch some spare bedding?"

Babette came into the room and helped Gabriella get their Nord friend out of the sweat soaked night clothes and laid her back in bed. A little more calming magic from the dark elf helped her friend find a peaceful sleep.

Nazir and Veezara returned with a couple of cots and some spare blankets and then left them, experience having taught them that there was nothing more they could do just then.

Gabriella turned to Babette. "I suspect Sable simply had a nightmare beyond her control." She explained to the vampire. "But if there is something more sinister to it and she needs to be restrained, I suspect you are the only one of us that would be able to do so."

Babette only nodded as the two of them settled into the cots for what promised to be a night of uneasy rest.

* * *

Her eyes opened to darkness but it was different this time. The mind-numbing terror from before was gone, replaced now by a disconcerting feeling of powerlessness and despair. As stated by the old priest and frighteningly cemented by the dream, she was completely powerless against death. Sable sat up and looked around. Movement to her left caught her attention. She saw that Gabriella and Babette had slept in her room to tend to her if needed.

In that moment, she recalled everything. The dream and the fear-induced insanity it had inspired and how the Family had rushed to her aid along with the internal war fought within between the terror and the bliss of whatever spell Gabriella had used on her left her embarrassed. Her brothers and sisters had seen nothing but weakness in her at that point and she had been able to do nothing about it. Anger began to rise up in her in response to that helplessness, but it quickly faded when she heard Babette's voice call out.

"Sister, are you alright?"

"That depends, Babette," she quietly answered. "If you mean to ask if I have regained myself, then yes. I am alright. But if you mean to ask if I am whole and well … No, I am nothing near alright."

She wasn't sure she could say anything more and thankfully Babette didn't push it. By now, Gabriella was sitting up looking their way as well. The dark circles forming under her eyes told Sable that she hadn't slept much. She guessed that aside from the cots likely not being very comfortable, they had probably woke every time she moved or made even the slightest noise in her sleep.

"Thank you both." She said somberly but sincerely. "I don't think I remember the last time I've had such care shown to me."

"None are needed, sister," Gabriella answered. "I am sure you would keep the same vigil over me were our positions reversed." The last statement confirmed Sable's thoughts about their presence, but caught between the conflicting emotions of frustration from the display of weakness and being loved she couldn't find any words to say. She only nodded and hoped that they knew what she meant by it.

"We will leave you to dress." The dumer spoke after a short silence. "Join us for breakfast whenever you are ready."

Gabriella left her then, no doubt to change into her robes and start her day as well. Babette, however, lingered.

"Astrid asked to see you," the child-looking vampire stated. "She wants to know about your last contract and about last night. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help." She turned and left as well.

Sable stood and rummaged through her dresses eventually settling on her favorite. The heavy material of the dress along with a low square cut neckline showed off her curves and just the right amount of cleavage she thought. It was a made from crimson red crushed velvet trimmed with cream and gold. It had been the first gift she had received from her Family after joining the Dark Brotherhood . She had worn the dress to distract the Jarl of Falkreath and steal a valuable brooch when she had formerly worked for Thieves Guild. She had reluctantly left the dress behind. Somehow the assassin's guild had known about it and Babette had retrieved it as a welcome home gift. It had been the first time she could remember truly feeling loved and knew then she would defend her new Family to her last breath.

It seemed almost silly to think of a bunch of assassin as a warm and loving family, but that is exactly what they had been to her. She found it strangely comforting though, and a wisp of a smile appeared on her face. It was the first time she had in the last couple days since she'd dealt with the old man. And, just like that, it was gone.

The despair didn't last long, as she looked down as saw how pretty she looked in the dress. The white-haired assassin couldn't resist the urge to twirl herself around a few times and the smile resurrected itself even greater than before.

She grabbed a comb and de-tangled her hair as best she could from the sweat the previous night and eventually decided she would have to find some time for a proper bath. With that in mind, she put on her favorite boots – another gift to her from the Family – and left to find Astrid.

As usual, Sable found the guild's matron standing over table in the first cave inside the entrance of the complex.

"You asked for a report, mistress." Sable stated coming up behind Astrid.

"Yes," Astrid replied in her usual silken tones, "tell me about your last contract."

"You've haven't asked me about a minor contract since my first, why now?" the white-haired assassin voice confused rather than defensive.

"True," the matron conceded, "but neither have you ever screamed in your sleep after returning from a contract, much less a rather simple one such as an old priest of Arkay. It tends to raise eyebrows."

Sable's face flushed with embarrassment that soon found her grinding her teeth in anger at the helplessness she felt.

"I do not mean to shame or embarrass you." Astrid assured her, accurately reading her face. "I am simply concerned for the wellbeing of a sister. I want to hear what happened so I can help in any way I can."

Sable understood and even appreciated Astrid's intent, but it only made it worse for her. She was so used to being in control and exercising power over any person or situation. There was no lower she could get than to have had them all see her in the state she was in the previous night. She was embarrassed that her Family has seen her so weak and was seething at the loss of control. Once again her leader spoke seeming to know her thoughts.

"If you do not want to speak of yet, I will respect your wishes, but for your own good, I will not allow you another contract until I hear of your experience."

She desperately didn't want to tell Astrid of how a few simple words had brought her to this haunting, but decided that there was no use in lying or putting it off. There was no way her matron would believe a simply uneventful murder would cause this upheaval. And since she wanted to get back to work and hopefully forget about the whole thing, Sable told Astrid everything. She didn't leave out a single detail. She recalled every word of the old man and every detail of the nightmare.

It all sounded so trivial and stupid as the white-haired assassin recounted it all, she still felt thick and cold by the time she finished. Astrid never interrupted; never even passed a look of judgment on her while she spoke. There was a short moment of silence before the leader of the assassins spoke.

"Ah, I understand now. You've come face to face with the idea of your own morality." Astrid always seemed to know exactly what to say. Perhaps that's why she was the leader, but it was so uncanny at times that it bordered on unsettling. "Take comfort. You'll find no judgment here. Everyone within this sanctuary has experienced the same, though perhaps not in quite the same manner as you have. You are now even more a part of our Family."

"So, what now?" Sable asked.

"That, I cannot answer." The blonde Nord replied. "You must find your own way through this. Each of us has dealt with it differently. Some distracted themselves with contracts until it went away. Others, used the support and advice of the Family to work their way through. Some have even quit."

"How did you handle it?" The pale Nord asked of her mentor.

"It took some time." Astrid replied with honesty. "I did not accept a contract for a while, but eventually, I realized that death was nothing to worry about as long as I survived each day. And if by chance, I did not, I would only go to the void that is Sithis and it would be nothing to worry about."

"I see," Sable said taking it in. "Thank you, mistress."

"No need to thank me, sister," came the reply and as Sable turned to leave, Astrid offered her customary parting words. "Kill well. Kill often."

Sable barely heard them as she was already deep in thought. While some of what Astrid said had made sense, there seemed to be more needed for her than what she had received. "Death was nothing to worry about as long as I survived …" her mistress had said. There was something left unspoken there but she did not know what. Of course there was no need to fear death provided one was alive. It was so simple it almost seemed like a stupid thing to say. There just had to be more to it.

Then it hit her. As long as one was alive, death held no power over them. She was exerting her power over death, perhaps even Arkay himself. Every moment she was alive, she was spitting in the face of any forces wishing to end her life. Her paced quickened with purpose. She had to find Nazir to get a new contract. She would prove her power over death and perhaps even over Arkay himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Looking around the relatively few buildings, Sable was reminded again why she didn't like coming to Morthal. If there was such a place that could be described as the arm pit of Skyrim, this was it. There was an inn, the jarl's residence, one alchemy shop, and a handful houses that made up the Hold city of Hjaalmarch hold. How the mass of swap land had become a hold, she could only guess. Perhaps it was because no one else in their right mind wanted the land and so it was made into one so the rest could define the borders of their holds as not being a part of Hjaalmarch.

The White Deathbell was here to find her target, an orc named Brugdul gro-Durog. Details weren't normally given on minor contracts, so she didn't know why the orsimer was wanted dead, but she really didn't care. This would be her first opportunity to prove death powerless since the disturbing 'meeting' with the priest of Arkay and the ensuing nightmare.

The orc was known to live out in the marshes alone to the west of Morthal so Sable had hired a carriage driver to take her to the hold city, figuring she could make her way from foot from there. However, the carriage ride had taken longer than she anticipated and now the sun was beginning to set. Travelling through swamps infested with frostbite spiders and chaurus was dangerous enough in during the day, but with dusk already giving away to night, she resigned herself to staying the night in Morthal.

The white-haired assassin walked towards the inn making sure to keep her long cloak pulled close so as not to reveal the black and dark red leather armor of the Dark Brotherhood she wore underneath it. As she passed by the jarl's longhouse towards the inn just beyond, one of the guards walking in the opposite direction reached her. He had studied her the entire time as they approached each other and as he came within earshot of a hoarse whisper, the guard gave her a shock.

"Psst," he whispered, "I know who you are."

Sable's left arm shot out and grabbed the guard. An instant later, she spun him to her right and into the shadowed gap between the longhouse and the inn. Before the guard knew what happened, she had him pinned again the wall of the inn with her elven dagger slid up under the full face of his helmet. The edge of the blade was poised just a hair away from the skin of his neck.

"And just who do you think I am?" The assassin whispered back menacingly.

"I only meant that I know you are of the Dark Brotherhood." The guard stuttered nervously, his eyes wide. "I know the pattern on your boots from … dealings … I've had with them. I meant no ill will."

"I think it would be best if this … misunderstanding had never happened." Sable suggested. The guard nodded carefully.

"Of course," he stammered, "my apologies. Hail Sithis."

Sable removed her blade from the man's neck, let him off the wall and walked away. The shaken guard took a moment before resuming his patrol.

* * *

The next morning, Sable left just after dawn. She struck out west into the marshland hoping the camp of Brugdul gro-Durog wouldn't be difficult to find and that she wouldn't have to deal with many pests along the way. She kept her cloak wanting to remain as unremarkable as possible until she actually made it to her target.

Fortunately, the assassin only had to deal with one relatively small frostbite spider before eventually finding the orc's camp. The camp was not large. It had a small fire in the middle and a tent pitched on the north side. He sat on a log running west to east near a stew pot set over the fire with a large battle axe resting close to his left, wearing only a pair of hide pants. He was much larger than most orcs with a heavily muscled torso and arms to match. There was a long scar that ran down the right side of his face barely missing the brute's eye. He hadn't seemed to have noticed her yet just sitting there poking at the fire or stirring whatever was bubbling in the stew pot.

Sable didn't drop into a crouch as she approached. She wanted to him to see her. She could have of course snuck up on him and ended his life (especially since her enchanted boots made no sound as she stepped), but doing so would have been fruitless. She would not learn whether or not she was more powerful than death if she never gave it a chance to try to take her.

As she neared, Durog saw her and immediately stood, placing his hand on the haft of his huge axe. Sable showed her hands, palm up and empty to show she was not armed and meant no harm. The orc didn't change his stance at all.

"Stop there, stranger," his rumbling voice called out, "unless you want to be split in two."

"I mean no hostility toward you," Sable answered in her best lost and helpless voice. "I fear I have become lost in these marshes. I saw your camp and approached hoping to gain assistance."

She lowered the hood from her cloak. Upon seeing her as a human female, the orc took his hand from his weapon and sat back down. Sable closed the distance and stood near a stump sitting a few feet away from his log on the east side of the camp.

"What were you doing wandering the swamps in the first place?" The orsimer inquired without looking at her, concentrating on what was cooking. "Was there some specific purpose in mind or are you some kind of grand fool?"

"Actually, I came here to kill you," came the reply.

The orc laughed at first, but when he heard no other laughter he looked up to the new comer. Sable smiled and removed her cloak, letting it drop to the ground. She stood there a moment in her black and sanguine leather armor, basking in the befuddled look on his face.

"I am from the Dark Brotherhood and it's time for you to die."

Durog instantly went for his axe, but Sable was ready for the move. A flick of her wrist sent a throwing knife whistling through the air that pinned the orc's hand to the log he was sitting on. He looked back up to her in disbelief. She smiled and slowly drew her elven daggers. She stepped forward to end Durog's life, but then the blasted orc ruined the whole thing.

Seeing her intent, he kicked the stew pot at her, causing the boiling content to spray in her direction. Sable threw herself to her right in a roll knowing it was her only chance to avoid being scalded or worse. She felt the heat as some of the liquid splashed onto her lower legs, but knew her armor would minimize the damage. As soon as she came out of her roll she heard a howl of rage come from Durog behind and she turned back to face him just in time to see him rip his hand from the blade holding it to the log.

Blood gushed all over the log. Durog panted heavily in pain. He glanced down to his hand. It was pouring blood and now useless for wielding his giant axe. Sable began to stalk her way back toward him both daggers still in hand. In response, the orc reached across his body and, amazingly, picked up his axe. It was clear from the strain in his muscles that he would be unable to fight with only one hand, but it seemed the orc didn't plan to as he curled his arm and hurled the weapon at the assassin.

Sable dodged the clumsy throw easily, but found it had only been a distraction. He rushed her and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug. He lifted her from the ground and flexed his monstrous arms, squeezing the air from her. The crush was so quick and complete it immediately forced her breath from her. On reflex, she gasped trying to draw more. The orsimer took the opportunity to squeeze tighter and empty her lungs even further and causing her to lose her hold on her daggers. They fell harmlessly to the ground.

Sable held her breath knowing it was the only way to counteract the constriction, but her chest burned for air and the edges of her vision were starting the blur.

"You, horrid bitch!" Durog roared. "I may die from the blood loss, but I'm making sure I take you with me. See you on the other side."

As he finished, there was a loud crack, and Sable felt a rib pop out of place. She involuntarily screamed what air she had left from the pain. The orc tightened his grip and she nearly passed out from the wave of pain that crashed over her. She began to see twinkles of light in her vision.

There was nothing left to do unless she was going to give death the victory, so she used what little she had left and thrashed. Sithis was with her, as her knee suddenly came in violent contact with her assailant's groin. Instantly she was free. Durog dropped her to the ground as he went crashing to the ground in a heap.

Sable gulped for air. It was a bittersweet experience. Sweet, wonderful air swept into her lungs and caused a fit of coughing from the searing agony that overtook her from the dislocated rib. This continued over and over as she made a clumsy grab for her daggers and scrambled away trying to put distance between her the Divines cursed orc.

She made it to a large stump about a half dozen steps away from the camp and immediately put her back to it hoping that she made it there fast enough that Durog wouldn't have seen her and she could have a moment to gather herself. She found that she had managed to grab one of her treasured elven daggers in her desperate escape.

It was mind numbingly difficult to keep from groaning every time she took a breath. The out of place rib continually throbbed out rolls of pain. Just then she heard Durog roar in rage.

"Curse you, you harlot!" The orc screamed. "I'm going to tear your limbs off and beat you to death with them!"

The white haired Nord clutched her dagger as her own anger rose within into a seething hot rage boiling her very being. It was time to end this and to do so very painfully. Slowly she turned herself around and tensed into a tight crouch, ready to spring. Still hidden behind the stump, she called out to her target.

"Is that all you've got, you son of a pig? I've been dealt worse from the chickens in Riverwood!"

His bellow of wrath told her that he heard her and the thundering of his steps told her he was heading in her direction as fast as he could in a homicidal frenzy. She dared not peek around her hiding place and give away her exact location, so she could only go on the rapidly increasing volume of his rampage and her instincts. If the timing wasn't perfect, it would probably mean the end of The White Deathbell Legend before it ever really got started.

She did her best to push the pain away and concentrate on the task at hand, focusing only on the sound of Durog's charge and on her instincts, trusting them to tell her the perfect time to strike. He was almost there. Her legs were aching with need. But she ignored them, keeping the muscles tight; wanting every ounce of power she could muster for the leap. One fraction of a second more and …

She sprung! Leading with the hilt of her dagger, she thrust her arm out as she leaped from her hiding place. The eagle head that served as the pommel smashed into the left side of the orc's face. Sable felt the crunch of bone breaking as the orsimer's feet were thrown out from under him. The force jammed her elbow painfully against the socket as she was spun away from Durog as he crashed heavily on his back too dazed to do anything more than howl in pain.

The assassin rolled into her landing and quickly got up and raced back towards the still downed orc. Blood fountained from his mouth. The blow had knocked at least 2 teeth from his mouth and broken his left tusk. Starting to recover, Durog lifted his hands to his face to cover the pain. Sable, wanting to see him suffer, darted forward and hacked at them. The elven blade removed three of his fingers in a new spray blood.

The orc howled and flailed with arms. One connected solidly with her abdomen throwing her to the ground. Pain flashed anew from the dislodged rib.

Sable screamed in pain and anger as she regained her footing and threw herself at Durog. She didn't care about anything anymore except making him dead. The assassin plunged her dagger into his exposed belly and dragged the blade across the orc; spilling his innards. Durog grunted and gargled and then finally went still.

Sable fell back to the ground. She sat there covered in orc blood for moment panting in pain and exhaustion, but her lips spread into a smile. She had proved more powerful than death. It had tried to claim her, but had been rebuffed. She had won this day. It was exhilarating.

She knew she needed to move away from the place. It probably wouldn't take the spiders and chaurus long to pick up the scent of blood and come investigate. Sable rose and retrieved her cloak and her other elven dagger. She decided against placing one of her special white deathbell flowers on Durog. It was unlikely anyone would find him before the swamp vermin tore him to pieces.

Slipping her cloak back on, The White Deathbell began the painful journey back to Morthal. With any luck, she could keep her cloak pulled around her until she could get a bath and no one would notice she was covered in blood that was not her own.


	13. Chapter 13

The journey to back to the Sanctuary was uneventful and painful. It wasn't enough that the injured rib hurt whenever she was conscious, the carriage ride was torturous as it swayed, bumped, and bucked in what she figured was every single hole and rut in the road that ran from Morthal to Falkreath.

Sable screamed when Gabriella's magic reset the rib and Astrid had instructed that she would not be sent out on a new contract until it had time to settle and there was no lingering pain. She spent the next few days mainly with Babette tending to the white deathbell plant that the child vampire had developed for her with the help of the Dunmer.

She found she was actually somewhat enjoying the small reprieve. She was able to reacquaint herself with all the pretty dresses in her wardrobe, though her rib prevented her from twirling around much. But as the days wore on and the soreness subsided, she began to feel antsy; growing until she thought she would go stir crazy. Going outside would not be enough she knew. She needed a contract. Her legend wouldn't grow just sitting around the Sanctuary.

Sable was sure she was going to snap when Astrid came to find her.

"How are you feeling, sister?" the leader asked.

"Depends on how you mean," Sable replied, "The pain in my side is nearly gone, but I'm going to go crazy if I don't get out soon."

"Well, aren't you the lucky one," Astrid purred "I've actually come to see if you wanted to handle a task for me?"

"You have a contract?" the white haired assassin perked up a bit.

"Actually, it is something that may end up being more … delicate than that." The matron of the Dark Brotherhood explained. "There may not be any killing involved, but it would at least grant you the opportunity to get out of the Sanctuary for a while. Interested?"

"Very." Sable replied immediately.

Astrid chuckled. "I thought you might be." She paused before continuing. "We have a … an old associate in Riften that has asked for a favor. I simply need you to go find out what he requires."

"And am I to perform whatever task he requires?" Sable inquired.

Astrid thought for a bit. "I trust you to use your judgment. If it is a matter you can handle, by all means do so. But you can report back to me if you so decide."

Sable smiled. It felt rather good to be trusted in this manner.

"Who is my contact for this favor?" she asked.

"I do believe you've met him actually." Astrid stated. "You are to meet with Delvin Mallory."

The name hit Sable right in the gut.

"Delvin Mallory of the Thieves Guild?" She was suddenly not sure of this task for Astrid.

"Yes, indeed," the blonde leader replied. "I am well aware of your past ties with the Thieves Guild and that you never gave them your … resignation as it were. However, I suspect that even if there is some … awkwardness there for both sides, the meeting will prove more fruitful if you go."

The white haired assassin wasn't sure about that, but also did not want to refuse Astrid. The Family had shown her the love and acceptance she'd never had before.

"I … I will leave at first light tomorrow, Mistress."

"You have my thanks." Astrid said before leaving her.

Sable hadn't thought of a return to the thieves since she had first joined the Dark Brotherhood. Sitting there she realized it was bound to have happened at some point. Still, that thought didn't seem to help undo the knot in her stomach. She wondered why she felt so anxious to return. From what she had heard, Delvin used to belong to the Brotherhood prior to leaving and joining the Thieves Guild. And certainly they wouldn't attempt to harm her. To do so would risk bringing the full wrath of the Family against them. And yet, her nervousness nagged at the back of her mind no matter how much she told herself she was being silly.

* * *

Sable stared at the cleverly camouflaged button that opened the secret entrance to the Cistern – the home of the thieves guild – carved into a stone coffin that slid away to reveal a passage into the sewers. She had used it countless times when she had been thief. Even though that had been less than year since she had encountered and subsequently joined the Dark Brotherhood, it seemed like another life now gone by.

The anxiety she had experienced when first hearing of this assignment was gone. It seemed almost funny to her. Now that she was about to face those whom she had left behind with no explanation or any other communication, there was only calm. She was not afraid or worried in the slightest. She knew no harm would come to her here. The Dark Brotherhood may have lost much of its glory during The Great War, but the thieves were on hard times as well and certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to incur the wrath of the assassin's guild.

And so she stood there in her full black and sanguine red leather armor that identified her as a member of the Family for a moment longer before pushing the secret button and re-entering a former existence.

A short stairway led to a trap door into the sewers. The ladder within led to a large circular room that the guild called The Cistern. It was where most of them spent their time. In the center of the expansive room was a large pool of water. Four stone bridges – one at each compass direction – met into a wide circular platform in the middle. There were four hallways leading from the Cistern; also located at each compass point. The passageway she entered from was one. To her left a passageway led to the tavern the thieves had made in the sewers call The Ragged Flagon. A massive vault was to her right and training rooms and lodging were found in the hallway directly in front of her.

Sable strutted purposely into the room and enjoyed the looks of astonishment she got from the members present. Generally if a member failed to return from a job, it was assumed that they had been caught and were serving time. It was generally understood that there were no rescues. If one got pinched, they were on their own. But as soon as any of them saw her in her Dark Brotherhood garb, they knew she was no longer one of them and they kept their distance. All except one.

"By the Eight, lass," came a familiar calm, mild voice. Sable looked to see Brynjolf, the second in command, coming towards her. "What happened to you?"

"I have found a new Family," Sable replied condescendingly, "a new home."

"That, I can see, lass." The red-haired Nord replied. "But, why? Why the assassins?"

"Unlike Frey or yourself, they appreciate what I do for them. They appreciate me." The former thief replied.

"So you prefer murdering, then" he returned, attempting to throw something back in her face. She giggled at his silliness.

"Of course I do." She cried out trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the question. She could explain how power was the most meaningful possession in life and that she was wielding the greatest expression of it, but she knew he wouldn't hear it; couldn't hear it. He was weak. She just fixed him with a cold, calculating stare.

"Then why come back?" Brynjolf retorted. "Do you think you could still be welcome here after that confession, lass?"

"A welcome doesn't concern me. I'm here to see Delvin." Sable replied. "I assume he's in the Flagon, as usual?"

"Aye, he is," her once mentor said, "Get whatever business you have with him done and be gone."

Sable wasn't particularly surprised by Brynjolf's reaction as she left him there and headed towards the entrance to The Ragged Flagon. He held the Dark Brotherhood as rather contemptible; nothing more than petty murderers. She knew that Brynjolf only saw the small picture of larceny. He didn't understand that she now exercised power beyond what he could hope for as just the second in command of a gang of thieves. And even if his view of them is all they were, her new Family actually treated her as a sister rather than the lip service she had found here in the sewers under Riften.

Once inside the sewer tavern, it wasn't hard to find Delvin. The bald, elder Breton was seated with his back to her at his usual table just to the left of the bar. Sable strode right up to him, arms crossed.

"Astrid said you had requested a favor." She stated flatly catching his attention.

"Well, well, well, "he answered. "You're making friends all over, ain't ya."

"It would seem so." She replied. Delvin didn't seem disturbed at all by her new profession. With the old thief having been a member of the assassin's guild once, she wasn't sure how he'd react, but the parting had apparently been amicable she guessed.

"Always figure you were more a cutthroat than a cutpurse." He mused.

"We all have our lots in life I suppose," the assassin allowed, but wanting to be out of the sewers, she quickly changed back to the desired subject. "You had requested a favor from the Brotherhood?"

"Aye, that I did." Delvin answered handing her a note. "All I ask is that you not open that until you are out of the Cistern."

"That's it?" Sable asked incredulously beginning to feel her anger flare up. "We called me all the way to re…"

"Aye, lass. Simple as that." He cut her off quickly. She now understood that whatever the favor was, he didn't want his comrades to know about it. She blew out a sigh. Typical secretive thieves and all their clandestine cloak and dagger nonsense; it was a wonder that any of them ever got any sleep.

"Very good." Sable replied too politely. "I will take my leave unless there is anything else."

"You're free to go, love." He answered. "Give Astrid my regards."

She turned and made her way back to the Cistern. But rather than going straight for the exit, she made her way to the living quarters of the thieves. Back to her old room. Thankfully they had left all her stuff there, probably in anticipation of her eventual return. She went to the chest at the foot of her old bed and quickly opened it and retrieved the first possession she had ever cherished. A length of silk ribbon. It was a deep purple color with golden embroidery in the shape of deathbell flowers. She didn't remember how she had come to own it, but she had had it for as long as she could remember. As the assassin took a moment to gaze at it and run her fingers along the smooth silk from which it was made, she felt that perhaps it had been her mother's. It was, without a doubt, the only remnant of her time in the thieves guild she missed. And now it was hers again. Her old life as a thief was now completely purged and gone. She tied her stark white hair up with it and strutted freely from the room. She knew she was never coming back.

After seeking out and giving Brynjolf her formal, though not very polite, resignation from the thieves guild, Sable left using the same route in which she had entered paying no heed to any of the looks or stares that followed her back out to the Riften graveyard. Once out, she triggered the mechanism that slid the sarcophagus back into place, hiding the entrance to the thieve guild once more. The assassin retrieved her cloak from where she left it in an inside corner of the mausoleum and fastened it and pulled her hood up before heading back into town. She needed to find a secure place to read the note Delvin had passed to her. Somewhere she could be sure the eyes of the thieves guild wouldn't be able to see what it contained. Then it came to her.

The pale Nord turned around and headed back toward the graveyard, but this time, went up the wide steps and into the Temple of Mara. Once inside, she quickly and quietly took a seat in a pew to her right just inside the door and opened the note, holding it close to her to do her best to keep any onlookers from seeing its contents. Truly there was nowhere in Riften completely safe from the spying of Brynjolf's gang, but she knew that most thieves would probably be more than a little uncomfortable at the idea of hanging out in the godess' temple.

Written with impressively delicate penmanship, the note was short and simple.

**_On the north bank of Honrich Lake, you'll find Merryfair Farm. Be there at midnight._ **

Delvin was being extremely cautious if he was dragging her outside the city in the middle of the night. Sable began to wonder exactly what she had gotten herself into by agreeing to do a simple favor.

* * *

There wasn't much to Merryfair Farm; just a simple farm house with a barn and the requisite crop fields all around it. It was nestled right up to the bank of Honrich Lake for easy irrigation. But, when she discovered that Merryfair Farm was not deserted, but very much still populated, Sable's annoyance with Delvin grew considerably. The moons were just beginning to reach their peak in the night sky as she had approached the settlement wondering if she was supposed to go inside the farm house for her meeting with the eldest member of the thieves guild or if their business was to be conducted outside in one of the fields.

Her contemplation was broken when she sensed a presence coming up slowly and stealthily behind her. The White Deathbell didn't move, not letting her potential assailant on to the fact that she was aware. As soon as they mystery person as close enough, she crouched low and spun from left. Swinging out her right leg swept the intruders legs out from under him and he landed on his back with a thud forceful enough to drive the air from his lungs. In the blink of an eye, the white haired assassin was perched atop him with a dagger poised at his throat.

Delvin Mallory heaved and coughed for a moment before finally regaining his breath.

"Not exactly the welcome I was expecting."

"Then why were you trying to sneak up on me?" Sable asked, an edge of suspicion in her voice.

"Can't blame a thief for attempting to ply his trade, can you?" He flashed the most dashing smile he could muster. "Just my luck that you would pick up on me right before I could make the grab."

"Oh, please," she countered, "I heard you slogging through the mud near where the lakeshore meets the potato field."

Mallory's eyes went wide. Either he was losing his touch or this one was very good to have noticed him that far away. Eventually his face reddened with consternation.

"So you've proven your better than me." His voice gave away how flustered he was. "Want to get off me so we can talk business!?"

Sable's red lips parted into a very satisfied smile. "No, I think I like this arrangement better at the moment. Now, what is this favor you need that required dragging me to some hick farm in the middle of the night?"

"Just being cautious is all," Delvin replied. "I ran a job off the books and need help cleaning it up so I wanted a conversation outside of town in a place the guild doesn't care about. I also wanted it to be populated in case I needed witnesses." He smiled again.

"The only thing these people would witness is the last drops of your blood spilling out of your neck as they came to check on their crop in the morning." She hissed.

"Never said my plans went perfectly."

"The favor." Sable reminded him, her impatience growing. "What do you need done?"

"As I said," the Breton began to explain, "I ran a job that went south. Guess I got a little desperate with the state of the guild and all. We're cursed, I tell you." Sable made no effort to hide her eyes rolling. "Anyway, I discovered a sizable skooma operation had set up shop out on the docks outside Riften. The plan was simple. Steal a shipment of their moon sugar and then ransom it back for some very good coin."

"Let me guess," the assassin interrupted, "the theft didn't quite go smoothly."

"Nah, I got the goods clean. Never knew I was there." Delvin answered. "It was the buy where all Oblivion broke loose."

"They decided it was more cost effective to kill you rather than buy their moon sugar back." Sable deduced.

"Exactly." The trapped thief answered. "As you can see, I escaped. Can't say the same for the recruit I brought with me."

"I'm still waiting for the part that involves me." Sable interrupted.

"I need these dealers killed." Delvin answered. "I hear they're not happy with just getting their junk back. I hear they're gearing up to take out the guild. Normally, we could just tip off a guard, but since this was done without Mercer's knowing …"

He left the implication hanging. While the thieves guild might be able to survive, they would be weaker than ever and Mercer Frey, the guild's leader, would not be pleased. Likely it would take consider pull from Maven Black-Briar to repel the skooma dealers which would lead her to have even greater influence on them.

"You've outdone yourself this time, Delvin." She said sarcastically.

"I realize it wasn't my best idea ever," he replied.

"How many are we talking about?" Sable asked.

"How should I know?" He shot back, irritated that he was still on his back with a dagger uncomfortably close to his arteries. "There were four of 'em at the buy. I'm sure there is more. A skooma ring is likely to be a sizable operation."

She sighed. "And how are you going to pay for this? The price would be rather high for this many lives."

"I'm calling in every favor I've still got with Astrid." Delvin replied. His usual unflappable and smug demeanor was gone. Sable realized then that this job was likely beyond her skills. Likely beyond the skills of any one assassin.

"Fine. I'll report to Astrid and we'll return to fix your problem." She said.

"You'll be too late." The bald thief argued. "The way I hear it, they'll be attacking soon."

"Gods, Delvin!" The assassin spat. "I'm good. I'm very good. But, an entire skooma cartel! That's suicide!"

"I never said this was nice or easy, love. But it needs doing. If there is any … unofficial assistance I can …"

"Any reason I shouldn't just leave and let you thieves face the dealers on your own?" She interrupted

"I doubt Astrid would very much like one of her own betraying a promise to honor a request for help." Mallory stated plainly.

Sable knew he spoke the truth. Couple that with the fact that Delvin maintained a working relationship between the two guilds and she knew that she had to at least try. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to prove her power over death. If she could pull this off, it would be spitting in the face of Arkay.

"Do you know when they plan to strike?" Sable asked hoping to get an idea of how much time she had.

"Soon is all I know."

"Fine, I'll take care of it." The White Deathbell promised. Before standing and releasing Delvin, she nicked his neck with her blade, just enough to draw blood. Delvin winced. "But, I don't care what kind of pull you have with Astrid, it's not enough to cover taking on a skooma cartel alone. You now owe the Dark Brotherhood."

With that said, Sable released the elder thief and vanished into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

It hadn't been too difficult to find the skooma smugglers' warehouse out on the docks of Riften. Only two of them had a posted guard overnight. Of those two, one belonged to Maven Black-Briar being watched by her chief enforcer; a thug name Maul. The other was guarded by two jittery Argonians dressed in rags armed with steel longswords and daggers. They looked like they were likely coming down from a high. Sable figured she could take the two down easily, but then she spied the master lock on the door to the shabby looking warehouse behind them. While the warehouse looked the part of every other run-down storage building out on the docks, she knew was likely to be well barricaded. Her lock picking skills were rusty since leaving the thieves guild and it was unlikely she could have picked a lock that intricate in a timely fashion even back then.

Quietly and quickly she had made her way around the structure to only to find, to her dismay, that there were no windows to use as an alternate access point. Her frustration only grew upon inspecting the roof. The only way in or out of the warehouse was through the guarded door. And so she paused and crouched a moment on the roof above the two tweaked lizards guarding the only entrance wondering again how she was going to pull this whole thing off.

Disrupting the attack on the Thieves Guild would be easy enough. She could probably even shut down the entire branch of the operation here in Riften. It was the response to these actions that concerned the assassin. Once the rest of the skooma dealing organization heard or discovered what had happened, the response would be swift and brutal. It was likely to be blamed on the thieves guild as well, since it was Delvin that kicked off the whole fiasco. She just hoped that there would be enough of a delay between here and wherever else the dealers were located that help from the Family would arrive in time.

Thinking about everything made the white-haired Nord glad that she had decided to find a courier and send a note back to the Dark Brotherhood before taking any other steps. She prayed to Sithis that courier followed her instructions so that her message would arrive as soon as possible. Just then, Sable's thoughts were interrupted.

"I'm going to do a sweep of the inside. Make sure everything is quiet." One of the Argonian guards stated.

"To Oblivion you are!" The other snapped. "We both know you can't keep your hands to yourself. The boss said he would kill us both if any more went missing."

"And you're so innocent, are you?" the first replied. "They should change your name to Skims-From-Stash."

"Quiet you tongue, or I shall do it for you!" The second one threatened. "You go in there and I'll open your stomach."

"You're not going to stop me from doing anything. The boss gave us orders to check inside periodically, in case those slimy thieves try for the sugar again." The first held his ground. Sable found it interesting that Delvin had found some other way into the warehouse than the front door. "Besides, I have the key so that means I'll be the one that goes inside." The lizard fished a key from his pocket and flashed a smiled at his companion. Said companion responded by punching him in the face and ripping the key from his hand while he was still dazed.

"Hmm, looks like you won't be going in after all." He said arrogantly as he unlocked the door and went inside. She heard a click as the addict guard locked the door behind him.

Sable smiled and suppressed a laugh. These two idiots were going to make it easier than she thought.

The one left outside got up grumbling and shifted to the other side of the door so that it would swing open away from him when the other returned. The assassin crouched right up against the edge of the roof and waited, knowing that the door would have to open again and that would be her way in.

A few moments later, the click of the lock sounded and the door opened. As soon as she saw the Argonian step outside, Sable dropped off of the roof.

She came crashing down onto the lizard from above. The sudden unexpected weight hitting him instantly brought him to the dock floor. And then he knew nothing more as Sable jammed a dagger into the back of his skull. The other guard's eyes went wide as he realized they were under attack.

The remaining Argonian drew his sword and dagger. She could tell he was no fighter. The guards, she realized were mere decoration. These skooma dealers were powerful enough to believe that no one would be stupid enough to rob them. These lizards were probably employed to just to keep away innocents who did know any better.

The sword in his right hand, the lizard slashed at her in a diagonal arc starting from high right going to low left. Sable easily stepped out of the way of the clumsy attack and brought her left dagger in behind his swing as she moved forward inside his reach with the longsword. The quicksilver blade sunk into his forearm severing muscle and tendon as she effectively pinned his arm across his body.

The Argonian cried out in pain as his hand went limp and he dropped the sword. He first tried back away to put distance between himself and the pale devil woman that had appeared out of nowhere, but she stepped with him not letting him free. It was almost laughable watching him try to stab at her awkwardly around his useless right arm that she was still using to obstruct his ability to fight.

Sable slapped the nearly powerless thrust away with the hawk-head pommel of her right dagger before slashing the blade back across. Blood began to gush from his slit throat as he crumpled to the ground suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs to support.

A plan quickly forming, the assassin took the warehouse key from the miscreant that she used to break her fall before dumping him over the side of the dock into the deep water below. She then hauled the other into the warehouse. With any luck, she could make it look like the two addicts had decided to steal the stash they were hired to guard, but then quarreled, ending with one of their deaths with the other disappearing into the night.

She dumped the body just inside the door and headed further in to investigate. The white haired assassin locked the door behind her. The clicking of the heavy intricate lock would give her at least a second or two notice just in case some thug or dealer showed up before morning. She was in a short entry room lined with shelves that were mostly empty. Thankfully there were several goat horn torches lit throughout the interior to provide just enough light.

A few steps later, she came through another doorway into an expansive room that made up the bulk of the warehouse. At the far right corner a small room was constructed, most likely to serve as an office where ledgers or any other important documents were to be kept. Just off of the middle was a small fire pit. And there she spotted an exit panel in the floor. That was how Delvin pulled the heist. He swam underneath the warehouse and picked the lock on the secret trap door. Above, the barn like ceiling crisscrossed with numerous support beams.

On the left side of the cavernous room were numerous shelves where all the drugs were stored. Sable went there first knowing that was where the bulk of her work would be done. She found four large sacks full of the pinkish white crystalline moon sugar. Finding the key worked for the trap door as well, Sable lugged the sacks over to it and dumped them into the lake below.

She found several shelves packed full with bottles of skooma. She grabbed a few of them and emptied them on the floor and scattered the empty bottles around the warehouse, with most of them ending up in the entryway where she had left the dead Argonian. She smashed the rest letting the narcotic liquid go wasted on the floor and shelving.

After the drugs were disposed of, she made her way to the office to see if she could get any clues of where the rest of the operation was and when the attack on the thieves was to take place. To her dismay, there was little inside. She quickly searched the desk and all the cabinets and found only a reference to Cragslane Cavern. She figured it was where the rest of the operation was conducted though she didn't know where this particular cave complex was.

It was time to leave while she still could. With no outside light source in the warehouse, she had no idea no long she had been in the warehouse, but it was certainly long enough. She couldn't risk being caught in the dealers' warehouse. The explanation of what had happened would be obvious if she was still around.

She made her way back to the entrance and cracked open the door and silently cursed. Outside, she was greeted by the mellow gray light of dawn. She was about to attempt to leave and hope it was still early enough that no one would be around when she the stomping of booted feet. Sable turned back into the warehouse leaving the door still slightly cracked hoping it would reinforce the idea of a botched impromptu robbery by their own hirelings.

She went for the trap door figuring a wet escape was better than none at all, but had to abandon even that when she heard a voice just outside.

"What in Oblivion is going on!?" a male voice shouted. "Where are those two idiot egg suckers?"

Sable knew she had to find a hiding place. If she lingered another second to open the trap door in the floor she would be caught. A desperate idea hit and immediately she dashed towards the shelving frantically hoping they would be sturdy enough for what she had in mind.

* * *

The White Deathbell watched the troop of six men enter the warehouse perched from the cross beams supporting the roof high above view. Two she guessed were mages as they were dressed in robes and carried staffs. The rest wore cloaks to conceal the armor they were likely wearing though she caught the pale green glint under the cloak of one that told her at least one of them was outfitted in glass armor. Calling it glass armor wasn't quite the truth of it, she knew. What was referred to as "glass" armor was really a rare mineral called malachite. When refined, shaped, and hardened, it made for incredibly effective, if not flashy, armor since it was very light and could turn away all but the staunchest blows. That kind of armor was very rare; very expensive; very fancy.

The group walked into the center of the warehouse to where the fit pit and trap door were located with the one in the glass armor cursing more loudly and more frequently as he surveyed the state of their supply house. Seeing that there was no easy way to escape, Sable figured she might as well remain where she was in the rafters and try to learn what she could. As if she had a choice.

"What in Oblivion happened here?" The man in the fancy armor roared seeing the moon sugar gone and the skooma destroyed.

"Those damn thieves!" Exclaimed one of the others. "We should attack now."

"I do not believe this to be the work of the thieves guild." One of the mages remarked in a calm voice, refuting the thug.

"How can you be sure?" Questioned the first, seeming to be the leader of the group.

"The thieves guild are adverse to murder." The mage explained. "Also, why would they destroy everything of value?"

"Then what in Oblivion happened, Sionis!?" The leader bellowed.

"Look at everything Varskil." Snapped the mage named Sionis. "We found one of the pathetic argonians dead on the floor just inside the door which was cracked open. The skooma was destroyed, though several empty bottles are seen all over the place. And the moon sugar is gone."

"Are you saying the egg suckers did this?" Varskil asked regaining some of his composure.

"I'm saying I think they meant to," Sionis replied, "but an argument ensued. They fought, smashing against the shelves at one point ruining the skooma they wanted. One stabbed the other and ran off with the only thing of value left. The other bled out before making it to the door."

Varskil was silent for a moment, mulling it over in his head. "How does the blood outside fit in, then?" The boss finally asked. Sable immediately felt queasy. That was the only thing wrong with the scene she had set. But then the mage – that darling mage she was probably going to have to kill – saved it all.

"I would assume both of the lizards were armed?" the mage asked, pausing to see Varskil confirm his question with a nod. He continued. "Then it's not hard to suppose that the other was injured in the fight."

Their leader sat in thought again for a moment. "Those blasted reptiles." Varskil said apparently agreeing with the mage's assessment. "The boss isn't going to accept a loss like this. 10,000 septims worth of product gone." He paused again. "Change of plans." He announced. "We're going to attack the thieves today. Hopefully, there is enough sellable loot down there to make up for this disaster. Ralgaff, gather the rest of the crew. We'll hit them fast and hard. Then we'll go after the egg sucker that stole our sugar. Bleeding and likely in need of a fix, he can't have gotten far."

Sable's eyes went wide. She couldn't let the brigand name Ralgaff out of the warehouse, but any strike against him would be noticed. She would have to strike this group now. Strike them hard and fast and hope that in the initial surprise and confusion she could take enough of them out that she wouldn't be overwhelmed. There could be no survivors. If anyone got a message back to "the boss" the mission was lost. By her assessment, the two mages and Varskil were the greatest threats. She had to take them down first, but she also has to worry about the man being sent to get reinforcements. He also had to be among the first to die. The first strike had to take out four of the six targets. If she missed, she died and death would prove the more powerful that day. And that was something she couldn't allow. She would see herself the most powerful again.

With that thought, she readied one of her elven daggers in her left and, a throwing dart in her right and jumped down into the middle of the gang of drug dealers.

As Sable came down right next to the other mage, her dagger tore through his chest as she let the momentum push her down into a crouch. Immediately, she punched her left elbow into the back of Sionis' knee. Over balanced from her buckling his knee, it was easy to sweep his legs out from under him. The perceptive mage landed on his back with a thud, the air driven from his lungs. The flick of her wrist, sent the dart into the back of Ralgaff's neck. His momentum carried him forward as he went down and his limp body crashed into the door, effectively barring the outside world from entering.

Her right hand now empty, the assassin grabbed a stone from the fire pit and heaved it at Varskil. It smashed into the large man's face and sent him reeling. She now stood to face the two remaining thugs who were just beginning to get over the shock of white haired whirlwind of chaos that had appeared in their midst.

She drew her other elven dagger and charged at them, hoping that there was still enough surprise that she could bring them down without resistance and then finish off the last two – the mage called Sionis and Varskil. Unfortunately, they had recovered enough of their wits and drew their swords. Of course it couldn't be too easy.

So, the assassin changed her tactics. When she closed to striking distance, she gave them each a quick thrust that would be easily blocked. They rose to the occasion and she heard the clang of their collective weapons. She didn't press the attack though; letting them swat her daggers away easily and instead kept running right through the space between them.

Their confusion at her strange move was their undoing. One step into the shared space, she spun and was instantly behind the thug to her right plunging a dagger into his back to the hilt. She continued around his left side put her other blade into his chest as well.

As she anticipated, the other tried attacking her as she had run through them. Instead of cutting her, his sword only struck his dying companion that was now being used as a human shield.

Sable pushed the dying man towards his comrade and spun again, yanking both daggers free. An instant later she planted them both into the back of the other. Perhaps it could be this easy. She elven blades pulled free and the two fell to the floor tangled up in each other.

Not forgetting that Varskil and Sionis were still alive, she turned to assess them. The mage still seemed to be catching his breath and Varskil was lying motionless on the ground a short distance away. She wasn't sure that the rock she threw could have hit with enough force to put him down. It had been meant only to keep him out of the fight for a few moments until she could even the odds.

Still she didn't even detect the slight movement of him breathing. Could she have been that lucky to have killed him with the wild throw? She wasn't going to leave it to chance. Sable quickly crossed over and prodded Varskil. There was no response. Still skeptical, she took the point of one of her daggers and pressed it into the unprotected flesh just above the top of his boot. Still no response. Not even a flinch of pain from the stab wound.

Satisfied that he was at least unconscious, she pushed him over on his back. She was going to slit his throat to make sure he was dead before seeing about trying to question Sionis. Sable stepped over him and knelt down a bit to end Varskil's life. Just as she was about to open the arteries in his neck, his eyes snapped open and he struck. Being on top of him, she manage to get her arms up in as much of a block as she could, but it was his turn to have the element of surprise and his fists struck her temples and her vision went blurry.

She felt herself being thrown to the floor and fought the urge to vomit. If she couldn't regain her senses, she was dead. She did her best to back away from Varskil and make the room stop spinning. As her vision finally began to clear, she saw Varskil standing over her with a sword in hand. He lifted blade, about to deliver the killing blow. But it never came. There was a flash of light off to her right and an instant later, Varskil was thrown across the room. She looked and saw a large spike of ice jutting from his chest. She looked the other direction and saw that Sionis was up, a pale bluish white light fading from his hand. At that close range, the projectile was powerful enough to have rent Varskil's glass armor and bury itself into him before sending him flying across the room.

Sionis spat at his former boss's corpse.

"You'll never hold any power over anyone ever again, you piece of daedric filth!" He stated through clenched teeth. He then turned and looked to Sable. "I'm guessing we're on the same side now."

She nodded. Once again this mage – this darling mage – had saved her.


	15. Chapter 15

They both hesitated, unsure of what would – or should – happen next. Sable's instincts returned and her eyes darted to and fro around the room and back to the mage standing in front her trying to put together a way to escape. He seemed to recognize her impulse and took a step back from her.

"I don't intend to harm you." He said calmly. "Believe it or not, I'm rather overjoyed at what happened here." He reached down and picked up her elven daggers. "I will give these back to you, if you agree you at least hear my explanation for what just happened. Afterwards, we can decide to either help each other or try to kill each other. I'm beginning to suspect our goals will be the same."

"Hand me my blades," the assassin replied, "I'm listening."

"I'll keep it as short as I can since it is likely more will arrive when they decide Varskil has taken too long." With that said, he quickly glanced to the door as if expecting it to burst open at that moment. When it didn't happen, he turned back to her. "First, a formal introduction – I am Sionis." He said pulling back the hood of his robes. Sable's breath caught for just a brief second. He had a short mess of dirty blonde hair that swept from right to left perched above the most intense eyes that were colored with a brown so dark one might mistake them as black at a distance. He had a sharp but strong jawline. Stubble matching the same dirty blonde color of his hair framed is mouth and covered his chin. He looked younger than she expected, but had an air of maturity in his eyes that told her that he – like herself – had seen more than most well beyond his age.

"I am The White Deathbell." Sable replied not wanting to give him her name just yet.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "Here's the story. I worked for these skooma dealers, but not willingly. A former friend apparently owed them a debt and offered to have me help them with a favor in exchange for cancelling the debt. I was less than pleased with what I had been volunteered for, but agreed to it in order to spare my friend from whatever punishment would otherwise be meted out. Once the work was done, they kept their word and let my friend out of the debt, but decided that I now knew too much about their organization to allow me out of their service. They took my younger sister captive, telling me they would … find some way for her to 'help' with the operation if I did not work for them." He paused having to fight his rage back down at the thought of his sister's predicament. "So, when I saw you in the rafters of the warehouse along with everything you had done, I figured perhaps this was the chance I had been waiting for and took the risk. I did not…"

"Wait, you saw me?" Sable interrupted shocked.

"Well, perhaps those are not the appropriate words." Sionis explained. "Varskil never knew about this, but I would always speak an incantation that allows me to see an aura of all nearby living things before entering anywhere with my employers. I figured it would come in handy if they ever decided to … terminate my services."

"Anyway," he continued, returning to his story. "Initially, I was going to tip off Varksil, but when I saw the dead argonian I decided stay quiet about you and see how it would play out. So I presented the scene you set that he was too stupid to see. Though I must say I didn't expect you to just drop down on us. Truly, Miss Deathbell, you are a whirling dervish of death."

Sable smiled at his last statement.

"So, as I said, I suspect our goals are the same. Unless I'm very much mistaken, we both mean to eradicate these skooma dealers, no?"

"You are not mistaken." Sable confirmed. "Though my reason is far less noble than yours."

"It doesn't matter to me." The mage said forcefully before catching himself and softening this tone. "I want them destroyed. And I would like your help doing so."

"And if I decide not to give you aid in your quest?" She asked.

"Then I will go alone." He replied evenly. "I know I took a risk on you, but I've made my move. I must now see this through. I will obliterate them or die trying."

Sable had already decided to join forces with Sionis long ago, but she had wanted to see his resolve. "If you die trying it means you'll have my blood on your hands, mage. I'm coming with you."

He smiled. And it was a wondrous sight. "Good. I'm going to enjoy killing them. Every one of them I murder will only increase my joy."

Now Sable smiled. Oh, she liked this one. She had to bring herself back to the task at hand though.

"So we're off to Cragslane Cavern, I assume?" She asked.

He turned a surprised look on her. "How did you know about that place?"

"Just a guess," Sable answered, "It was the only thing I could find in this place that offered any hint at where the rest of the operation is."

"Cragslane Cavern does house the bulk of their business including the leaders," Sionis confirmed, "but we are not yet done here I'm afraid."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, there will be others that will eventually come here looking for Varskil." The mage answered. "Your actions here this morning cut the head off of the trade here in Riften, and I commend you for it. But this serpent can still be dangerous as it goes through its death throes."

"Ok, so analogies aside, what are we expecting?" The assassin asked.

"If you recall, the dealers were gearing up for an attack on the thieves guild." He replied. "The six of us were just the lead group that was coordinating it. Varskil had brought another 20 – at least – in for the assault. They will eventually grow restless and come investigate as to what's taking us so long to detail a simple assault."

Sable cursed.

"I agree." The mage said. "We must set out for Cragslane immediately and put as much distance on the horde as possible."

"We can't do that." The white haired Nord refuted. "To allow that many enemies to remain at our backs would be foolhardy. Besides, even without the leadership, they will probably still attempt the assault on the thieves."

"Good." Sionis countered empathetically. "Let them be distracted for while we strike at the heart of the beast. Perhaps they even win out and Skyrim is rid of two criminal organizations at once."

Sable couldn't keep the look of incredulity from her face. "Do you not see the organization I belong to?"

The mage looked her up and down. His eyes opened with understanding as the realization hit him. "You're an assassin." She nodded confirmation. "Are you telling me the Dark Brotherhood was contracted to assassinate the skooma dealers and sent only you?"

"That's not quite how it went down, but it seems that's what it ended up being." Sable replied. "What you see here is a former member calling in old favors. And I'm not sure even he has enough collateral for this. I may kill him just on principle when this is all over."

"I see." Sionis clearly remained confused but was apparently not going to press it further. "Well, I hope you have an idea then. There's no way we can fend off the whole force ourselves."

"True, but that doesn't mean we can't leave some surprises for them. Can your magic be used to set a trap?"

"Indeed, it can." The mage smiled beginning to see the plan this lovely yet murderous woman was concocting. "And I think I may have just the perfect spell for them."

* * *

They both watched the warehouse from the near bank of Lake Honrich. Just as Sionis had said, the thug "infantry" of the skooma dealers eventually got impatient and came to investigate. They both smiled at the cracks of electricity and dying screams as the men encountered the magical trap the mage had laid for them. The explanation he had given her awhile before still confused her.

"It's a variant on a lightning rune spell." He had explained when they had still been in the warehouse. "Normally, there is a discharge of lightning when someone crosses the threshold of the rune. I've added a renewing arc to the spell. It uses the small amount of latent magical ability present in everyone as a conduit to bounce to new targets."

Sable just nodded pretending to have understood.

"I haven't figured out how to make it discriminate between friend or foe yet though, so once I lay the runes be careful not to get too close to them. I only wish the initial casting was more controlled and auspicious."

She had started to back away when the realization of what he said hit her. "Wait, you've never tried this before!?" His look of confusion at her concern answered her question well enough. "How do you know it will work like you say it will?"

"Oh, I'm very sure that it will work perfectly." Sionis had assured before mumbling something else she didn't quite catch. When he went back to his work as if the matter had been settled, she sighed and left the warehouse leaving him to the casting.

About an hour later, they watched as the horde forced their way into the warehouse. A short time later, they triggered the spell trap. It wasn't hard for Sable to imagine the sheer pandemonium that must have ensued. It made for some delightful mental images.

Eventually, the chaos began to subside. The screams and cracks of lightning died down and went silent. Sable insisted they stay and keep watch for another hour to make sure that no survivors came staggering out.

"Well, now you know that your spell works as intended." The white-haired assassin commented.

"Yes, indeed." Sionis replied. "Thank you for providing me an opportunity to try it Miss Deathbell."

She giggled. "You can call me Sable."

Now that they were satisfied, they left; heading north to Cragslane Cavern.

* * *

It had taken all that day and most of the following night to reach their destination though it was still dark as the pair began a cautious approach on Cragslane Cavern. They still had the cover of night, but with how long it took to travel, they couldn't have had much more than a couple of hours before dawn at best.

"Should we make a camp and come back after dusk?" Sionis asked.

"No." Sable answered. "This may actually be ideal."

"How do you figure that?" the mage questioned. "We can't be that far away from dawn. If we are going to attack now, it will have to soon."

"There's a chance that those that are awake and guarding the place are close to the end of their shift and tired." The white haired Nord explained. "Sleepy eyes notice less." She paused. "But you're right on our need to move quickly."

"So, what's the plan of attack then?"

"Plan?" The assassin faltered momentarily. "Yeah. I kill everyone. And we do so swiftly and silently." A moment later she looked back to her companion. "Unless there is anything about their defenses I should know."

"I'm not sure what the guard looks like at night. During the day it would be exceedingly difficult since almost every chamber is used and would see various members of the cartel going about various tasks." The mage explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well, then," Sable sighed. "We'll have to move through them quickly and kill as many as we can before they rise for the day. But, we must also move absolutely silently. How stealthy can you be?"

In answer, Sionis turned and mumbled. A moment later a light blue glow washed over his form momentarily. He then turned back to her and stamped his feet on the ground. No noise came from his movements. He lifted an eyebrow and smirked a bit, using his expression to ask if she was satisfied.

"A muffle spell?" She asked. She hoped that her having some knowledge of his craft would surprise him, but there was only disappointment.

"Yes, very similar to the one your boots are enchanted with." He answered. At first she was surprised, but then thought back to their meeting. For a mage, it wouldn't be hard to guess that her boots were enchanted after seeing her leap from the rafters to the floor without any sound from her impact.

"Ok, but what happens when the spell wears off?" Sable continued to question. "Can you cast it silently?"

"No, not silently, but I will try to be as quiet as I can." He replied.

"I guess there's no helping that." The curvy Nord replied. "However, being silent is one thing. Can you also stay out of sight?"

"I can make myself invisible." The blonde mage said with a measure of pride. "No really." He insisted upon seeing the doubt on his companion's face. "It's a spell. When I said I can make myself invisible, I was speaking literally."

Her countenance brightened. "Then we've won!" The assassin exclaimed. "The pandemonium that will break loose when they have destruction unseen rain down upon them will be..."

"Umm … there is a problem with that idea." The mage piped up over her excitement. He hated to squash her delight (however disturbing it might be), but disappointed would be better than dead.

"And that would be?" Sable asked a bit impatiently.

"Invisibility spells are extreme fragile. The beneficial effect is nullified upon taking almost any action other than basic movement." He explained

"You mean if you attack someone, the spell is broken?" The assassin asked incredulously.

"I believe that's what I just said." Sionis replied.

"I'm guessing you thought so, just not in recognizable English." Sable countered with a grin.

"It must have been if you understood what I meant!" The flustered wizard huffed.

Sable smiled inwardly. Finally she managed to knock him off his pedestal a bit.

"Ok, then." She said after a moment of thought. "I guess we don't get the win too easy this night."

"You're saying this is easy?" Sionis asked incredulously.

"Go ahead and cast the spells to make you silent and invisible." She continued, ignoring his question. "But stay back a short distance. I'll take point and take down everyone we find. If I get into trouble or by some chance I miss someone, put them down. But then get yourself unseen again."

"So, I'm playing the role of tactical support?"

"I believe that's what I just said." Sable replied with a gleam in her eyes. "Let's go. We're losing the only thing working in our favor."

Sionis cast the needed enchantments on himself and followed her into the den of evil unsure if either of them would make it back out.

* * *

He was pretty sure they were not going to survive the assault. It had been going quite well for a while. Almost boring for him in fact. Sable's ability to kill without being detected was majestic. They had made it through the first three chambers of Cragslane Cavern before he has messed up and brought the whole cartel down upon them.

A number of thugs lay dead behind them. Some had been sleeping when the assassin came upon them. They would never wake again. It happened just as they came into a rather large cave in the complex. They had come out of a tunnel onto a ledge that nearly ran the length of their end of the cave. There was a guard on either side of the ledge to watch the entrance. A moment after Sable had crept out and went to her left to deal with one of the guards. The other on the opposite end perked up and turned toward where the assassin had just been and began walking toward. A moment later the guard she had gone after crumpled to the ground. Even if she hadn't caught the other guard's attention before, the mage was sure she had it now. He hadn't done a single thing but renew his muffle and invisibility to this point, but now it had been time for him to act. When the thug drew a nasty looking hooked mace, the adrenaline that had kept him tense and alert surged anew and pushed him over the edge. After that moment, he had known nothing else but his instincts to protect his assassin companion.

He stayed still until the guard passed right in from of him at the entrance to the cavern. Then he had cast his spell. As the invisibility cracked and dissipated altogether, there had been a brief moment when the henchman's eyes went wide in surprise before the lightning bolt slammed into his chest and threw him across the room with a loud crack as the air around it had been torn asunder. The thug crashed right into the middle of the pack of dogs fenced in a makeshift kennel.

Sinois groaned in shame. In heat of the moment, he had forgotten about the dogs. It wasn't even a second later when Sable appeared in his face, a look of disbelieving rage painted across her face.

"Why in Oblivion did you do that!?" He could barely hear her over the barking of the dogs now alerted to the intruders. "I had that one dead. I just needed to wait for him to come to me!"

The wizard had been speechless in the face of her anger.

"Doesn't matter now." Her expression softened a bit when she had seen his speechless regret. "Get yourself ready for a fight. We're about to have all we can handle."

As if on cue, the drug dealers had begun pouring in from various corridors in various states of dress, but all of them armed. Again, he had to take a moment to catch his breath when he watched Sable meet them head on. It was almost like she was dancing through them. It was smooth. It was fluid. It was as deadly as it was beautiful. And it caused their blood to rain to the floor behind her every movement.

Sionis had come out of his trance just in time as one of the villains had come in behind her. She didn't seem to notice and just as he was about to strike, he cast a new spell. A split-second later the ice spike had slammed into the man's head and dropped him to the floor.

After he had started casting to support her, it didn't take them long to figure out his position and come at him. He killed several of them before they had reached him, but it wasn't much of fight at that point. Being a mage, he was no good at close combat.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a concerted effort to overwhelm and put down the assassin sowing death through their ranks. They had tried at least. He tried to take comfort in the hope that maybe they had done enough damage to the organization that it would be awhile before they could operate again. Then he knew no more.

* * *

Lod was probably one of the few that actually enjoyed being a messenger. Well, most of the time anyway. This last assignment was one of the strangest he had ever done. It had all started in The Bee and Barb Inn in Riften. A woman in a cloak had approached needing a message carried and had insisted on him leaving that very night. At first he had objected, but the amount of money she had pushed his way persuaded him. Well, that and she was quite striking with the fairest skin he'd ever seen on a Nord along with white hair and pale silver-blue eyes. He might have done the job for her for less money, but why argue when a client was rushed and offering far more than the task was worth. The customer was always right.

And so he had set out that night, using his new found fortune to rent a horse from the stable outside. If he even hoped to avoid all the bandits, spiders, and other nasty things that roamed about the countryside at night, he would need to be able to move very swiftly.

He stopped only to rest in towns or villages such as Ivaarstead and Riverwood. He actually hadn't needed to stop in Riverwood. He had not travelled a full day upon reaching the town and probably could've pressed on, but he decided it would be better for both him and his client if he was well rested for the last leg of the journey. Surely one night's delay wouldn't cause any problems.

And so on the second day out from Riften he had arrived in Falkreath and this is where his instructions had become rather odd. The cloaked woman had told him to walk out of the hold city through the cemetery to the west of the city and once he was outside of hearing distance of the city guard to begin shouting the recipient's name. He was instructed to keep walking to the west while doing so, and it shouldn't be too long before he would be able to deliver his message.

It hadn't been long indeed when he was confronted. A Redguard man suddenly appeared a few steps ahead. He carried a large scimitar and wore a rather distinct set of black and sanguine leather armor. He stared at the messenger with dark eyes that were calm yet also threatened a world of malice if they deemed the encounter between them didn't go the way he wanted.

Lod had seen his type before. This man was a killer; pain and simple. And he held no remorse about the nature of his profession.

"And who is it that calls for Astrid?" The armored man asked in a deep rich voice that was as cold as Nordic steel in a snow storm.

"I … I'm a courier." Lod stammered in reply. "I was hired to bring Astrid a message. That's all."

"I see," the Redguard replied. "I will relieve of your burden. Give the message to me and I'll see that she gets it."

"I … I can't," the messenger argued nervously. "I was told … told to give the message to Astrid only."

"Astrid is my mistress," the man clarified drawing his curved sword, "and I'll not compromise her safety for anything. Give me the message and I'll take it to her. Or if you'd rather, I can take it from your corpse."

Lod smiled at hearing the threat and upon seeing the confusion on his adversary's face, he explained.

"The person I'm delivering this for told me that anyone threatening to kill me rather than take me to Astrid would be good hands to entrust the message to." He slowly reached into his tunic and pulled the folded piece of paper from a pocket and held it out to the man in the leather armor.

The Redguard reached forward and took it from him. He then, turned and walked away without another word. Lod breathed a sigh of relief and headed back toward Falkreath to find an inn and get drunk.

For his part, Nazir went immediately back to the Sanctuary. He needed to get the message to his matron as soon as possible. Based on what the courier had said, he figured that the note had come from one of the family and so, out of respect for his brother or sister, he did not open it. It was meant for Astrid.

A few moments later, he passed through the door into the home of the Dark Brotherhood and approached Astrid, the leader of the assassin's guild. The tall blonde Nord greeted him as he came near.

"A message for you my mistress." Nazir stated. "Delivered by courier."

"Thank you, Nazir." She replied before turning her attention to the parchment and opened it.

A moment later her face drained of color as a waterfall of worry washed across it.

"Could you travel?" Astrid questioned urgently.

"I have no con…"

"I mean immediately." She cut him off. "Right now."

"Yes. If it's urgent, I'm ready to leave this moment."

"Good. Stay here." She said hurriedly. "I'm going to get Babette, my husband, and anyone still here. I'll be right back. We're leaving immediately."

"Mistress, may I ask the cause for such alarm and a response of this magnitude?"

Astrid handed him the note and then ran down further into the system of caves that served as their home. He opened it and his eyes went wide as he read it.

**_Send help. Quickly._ **

**_-Sable_ **


	16. Chapter 16

Pain brought her back to consciousness. Then, she heard someone screaming and it helped lift her out of the blackness. When she was forced to gasp for a new breath, she realized that she was the one she had heard screaming. As she sucked new air in, there was yet more pain. It flashed through her ribs and up her spine. Against her will, her back arched upward. It was then that she realized she was lying on her back. Her eyes opened and the harshness of the light made her snap them back closed. The pain was exquisite and every little movement set if off to greater levels. She knew that she would have to center herself and calm down. It was the only hope she had to try to get the pain under control.

"Finally stirring again, I see." She heard a harsh sinister voice say. She wanted only to fall away from it and back into the blackness. Somehow, she sensed that it would be better than whatever the voice had planned.

"Oh, no you don't." The voice reprimanded. "Stay awake for me this time."

Pain exploded through her side as she felt a booted foot kick her. She forced her eyes open and squinted a bit, trying to adjust to the light. Eventually the burning stopped and she noticed that a couple of torches were the only sources of illumination in the cave. She must have been out for a while for it to have hurt her eyes that bad.

"There's a good girl," the voice chortled though it sounded more malicious than anything else. A face appeared in her vision as it finally cleared up. The man was older with thick graying hair that probably used to be black. It was cut somewhat close to his head. His wrinkled face was covered with stubble. He had green eyes that gleamed with arrogance and a vileness that frightened her. She tried to get up and found that she was restrained to the table by her wrists and ankles.

"Oh, you can't leave just yet." The man smiled. It gave her a mental image of a cat ready to play with a mouse. "It would hurt my feelings if you refused my hospitality so soon after arriving." His face suddenly twisted itself up in rage. "Especially after the number of my men you left dead behind you! It will take months of dealing skooma to recoup the losses you caused!"

In that instant, those words brought it all back to her. Sable remember it all. She had taken on the skooma cartel in response to a request for help from a member of the thieves guild. The thief used to be a member of the Dark Brotherhood, the guild of assassins to which she now belonged. Since his band of professional bandits had fallen on hard times, he had run a desperate operation to rip off the skooma dealers in Riften. He had done so without the approval of the guild's leader and it had failed miserably. In fear of retaliation, he had contacted the Family and called in whatever favors the assassins owed him. She accepted not knowing the details and was forced to act immediately regardless of how outnumbered and out-armed she was. Along the way, she had met a wizard by the name of Sionis. He had worked for the dealers for a while against his will. They had kidnapped his younger sister and threatened to kill her or worse if he didn't cooperate. When she struck and took on the Riften division's leadership, he had decided it was time for his shackles to come off as well and had helped her.

The pair, then, invaded the cartel's headquarters at Cragslane Cavern in the hours just before dawn. They might have been successful at eliminating the dealers except that Sionis had inadvertently alerted the cartel and brought the whole organization down upon them. The last thing she remembered was slashing her way through the thugs covered in blood that was not her own.

And now, here she was; strapped to a torture table under the thumb of the sadistic leader of the whole syndicate. She turned her view to see a hooded mage with lightning crackling among his fingertips.

"That's right, my little flower." The boss said with glee. "He's here just for you." He laughed as he stepped out of the way of his cohort.

Normally, the assassin might have found what he had called her amusingly ironic, but the looming promise of yet more pain on a level she legitimately feared stole the giggle from her before it had any hope of bubbling to the surface.

The wizard stepped forward and raised his electricity filled hands. Sable turned her head the other way. While she was sure it wouldn't lessen the pain any, she didn't want to see it coming. She heard a crack as the lightning discharged into her. All her muscles locked and every joint in her body was jolted. Her body contorted in an endless string of spasms. She opened her mouth to scream away whatever pain she could. Her lungs emptied themselves though there was not a sound. Not even a whisper escaped her.

* * *

Sable didn't actually know how long the cartel mage kept the spell coursing over her each time. Her muscles continued to spasm for a while after he had let up. This caused her to jerk against her bindings making new wounds at her hands and feet. Just as it seemed as if the convulsing was dying down, the daedra-spawn of a mage would light her up again.

At this point, all she knew was pain and the quickly diminishing hope that it would ever stop. She had cracked or chipped several of her teeth already due to how hard she was clenching her jaw while her torturer went about his work. And he seemed to be rather enthusiastic and studious about it.

She almost welcomed death now. While she hated to think that Arkay was indeed more powerful than her, she knew that if she died the pain would finally stop and the despair nearly crushed her. And oddly enough, that is what saved her in that moment. The wave of despair that rolled over her at the thoughts of her powerlessness was then quickly destroyed by anger. It boiled into rage. How dare she let these cowards exercise their power over her? It was just pain after all. Granted it was breath-taking in its scope, but all pain ended. She steeled herself against it now. They might be able to make her scream, but eventually it would have to stop and when that happened, their power over her would be gone. She would prove it to them. And then, they would die. They would die screaming and she would laugh in their faces.

"And just what's so amusing?" The voice of their leader came from out view. "Have you not yet had enough? Or has your mind broken already?"

"What's funny," the bound assassin replied ignoring the pain of the air hitting her newly broken teeth, "is that I was about to ask you the same thing." She hadn't realized she had been laughing out loud. She didn't care though. It truly was funny that she had ever thought that they had any real, lasting power over her.

"Yes, I suppose I could see where that would be amusing." The man replied. It was obvious he was trying to keep his anger from boiling over. How easy it was to reverse the power struggle on her captors. She was now the one in control. He finally seemed to regain enough composure to continue giving her a small, tight, and completely forced smile. "Well, since we all seem to be in such cheery spirits, why don't we chat for a bit."

"I guess if you think you're interesting enough to hold my attention." Sable challenged.

The 'chat' almost ended right there before it really began. It took her captor several more moments to regain himself.

"I'll try my best to entertain you," the man said with a malevolent smile. "You did quite a bit of damage to my operation before you were finally captured. Truly, I haven't seen anyone weave death through a crowd quite the way you did. Of course having a mage who is an expert at destruction as back up probably didn't hurt you're cause any."

"Glad you liked the show." Sable sneered being careful not to change her expression in the slightest at the mention of Sionis. "Always nice to know I have fans."

The cartel leader laughed. "I don't know that I would classify me as a fan just yet. However, I may become one. It all depends on how cooperative you'd like to be." He paused briefly, but not long enough for her to get another jab in. He was adjusting his tactics to try to regain control. He was good, but she was determined that he wouldn't be good enough. "See, being the businessman that I am, I would like to know what prompted you to visit me with such … unfriendly intentions."

"You mean you don't recognize the armor of a Dark Brotherhood assassin?" She answered. "How could you have been in the business of dealing skooma and not think you might earn an enemy that would want you dead?"

"So this is simply a matter of a contract your pathetic little guild foolishly attempted to fulfill?" Sable didn't bother answering the idiot's question. If it wasn't rhetorical, then he was too dumb to understand it all anyway. She didn't figure he was that dumb though. To her knowledge, no other drug dealing outfit had ever successfully run their operation through a hold city for any length of time.

"Well then," he finally continued, "the answer to my first question leads to another. Who is it that sent you to kill me?"

This was a pivotal moment in the conversation, she knew. She could come clean and tell him or she could remain true to her Family and tell this scum nothing. Figuring that he would probably kill her regardless, she opted to really piss her captor off.

"I'm afraid that is a question I can't answer." Sable responded. "I take the confidentiality of our clients seriously."

"Is that confidentiality worth your life?" the man growled, now just inches from her face. "I won't just kill you, you know. I'll make it last longer than you would think possible."

Sable simply stared at him; never flinching or blinking. She kept her gaze locked on his in silence until he couldn't take it any longer and finally got the hint.

"Have! It! Your! Way!" he screamed in rage. He looked to his mage. "Malik, make her suffer."

The mage chuckled as the man stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "It's rare that he leaves me alone with a prisoner. Let me show you one of my favorite ways to cause pain."

At that, his hands lit up with a mostly white energy tinged with blue. He walked down to her feet and cast his frost magic over her right foot, encompassing it in the freezing cold.

It was a shock at first, but for the most part, Sable didn't respond to it much. She had lived in Skyrim all her life and was quite used to the cold. She knew that the wizard could cause frostbite or all manner of other problems with the unnaturally cold frost, but at least it wouldn't register as painful as the lightning.

A moment later, the mage looked up from his work and she finally got a glimpse of him. He was a chubby-faced Redguard with sadistic eyes set too close to each other. For some reason, his looks just made it seem fitting that he ended up a torturous bastard.

He now called flame to his right hand and went back to work on the same foot.

"See, this is the tricky part," he commented as he worked. "Just the right application of the heat and it will cause such agony that you'll give Lionel anything he wants." She could've done without his explanation but wasn't able to get a comment in as he kept right on rambling on. "See, as the foot is heated up too quickly ..."

She never heard the rest as pain exploded through her foot and she screamed. The heat differential caused by the flame being applied to her frozen flesh caused the skin to form massive blisters that then burst violently in spurts of blood leaving the layer beneath exposed. In other places, the top layers of her flesh simply cracked apart, gouging her foot with deep valleys and spattering her blood all over the mage's robes. The pain was blinding and deafening and though she couldn't see or hear anything, she could still feel the pain and wished desperately for unconsciousness.

As she started to regain her vision and hearing, she became aware that there was some kind of commotion. The wizard was just grabbing the boot of her left foot when the door to her particular room in hell burst open. The boss walked in hurriedly following by a half dozen of his thugs. He strode right up to Sable.

"Last chance!" His voice had a twinge of desperation in it now. "Tell me who arranged the contract and I'll let you live."

"We both know that I won't leave this gods-forsaken pit alive." The trapped assassin replied. "Even if that were not the case, I don't reveal my clients to anyone. If you were half as smart as you seem to think, you probably would have figured out who it was by now anyway."

His eyes went wild with rage. He reached down and grabbed her nearly destroyed right foot and squeezed it with all his might. Sable screamed.

"Tell me!" Her captor demanded as loudly as he could, urgency nearing taking over in his voice. "Tell me, or I'll kill you now!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the captive assassin heard a cry of surprise that turned into one of pain ever so briefly before it was gone in a gargle.

"Uh oh," Sable couldn't help but giggle despite the pain, "what's the matter, Lionel? Under attack again?" She used as much bravado as she could muster to keep the tears of joy at knowing her Family had come for her from leaking out.

"Shut your impertinent mouth!" He shouted as he back-handed her hard enough to rattle her teeth.

A moment later, the door slammed open and a Redguard man wearing the black and sanguine leather armor of the Dark Brotherhood walked in. He was carrying a large scimitar that he used to take the head off of the surprised thug nearest him.

"I wouldn't advise even touching her again." He said in a deep rich voice. "It would be rather … unhealthy."

"Nazir!" Sable couldn't help the outburst. She was overwhelmed with happiness at hearing his voice.

"Greetings sister," he replied, "give us one moment to deal with the garbage and help you off of that table."

"You might have trouble with that, seeing how there is still six of us and only one of you." Lionel threatened.

"Unfortunately for you," Nazir countered. "You won't be dealing with me. We all promised that you'd have to deal with her."

He stepped aside to reveal a rather innocent looking 10 year old girl.

"Babette!" Sable involuntarily exclaimed again.

"Hi sister!" Babette returned excitedly before her face turned serious. "How badly do these cretins need to be hurt?"

The cartel leader finally piped in. "A little girl? I'm supposed to be afraid of this tiny little girl?" He chuckled.

"The faceless idiots can just simply be killed." Sable answered Babette as if no one else had spoken. "Save this one for me," she said face pointing to the leader. "This one," she pointed with her face again, this time to Malik, "is the one that did this to me." She wiggled her mangled appendage. "He's all yours. Do with him whatever you see fit."

The child vampire smiled. "As you wish, sister."

"Enough of this." The cartel leader spat. "Kill the child! Kill them all!"

The five remaining goons rushed toward Babette while the torturous mage and their leader hung back to watch the carnage. Just as they were about to reach her, the child smiled wide, showing off long pointed incisors.

She leapt into the fray and the sheer brutality of it took Sable's breath away. The child vampire jumped into the arms of the first to reach her and sank her fangs into his neck. She didn't bother to stay there and feed. She promptly bit deep and then ripped a mouthful sized chunk of his neck out. They both fell to the ground as the man attempted to scream the rest of his life away. It came out as loud gargling sound.

And then they were upon her. One grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up. In response, Babette reached back to the fingers wrapped up in her hair and ripped two or three of them out of their sockets. The man screamed, gripping his disfigured hand. She didn't even bother to go after him; rather she turned her attention to the next one in line. She kicked him in the knee hard enough to break it. It broke so forcefully that the joints nearly came out the back of his knee with a loud crack. As he doubled over to clutch at his leg, she reached up and grabbed his head. Her face strained with exertion, but she did manage to twist his head so that his face was in line to look over his left shoulder. That one's life was gone before he hit the ground.

To say the remaining two were beginning to lose the heart to fight was an understatement. But they never had the chance to back out. Babette rushed the closest of them, bowling him over. She ripped his throat out in a fountain of blood just like the first. The last of the cartel thugs turned to leave. Another unnatural leap from the child vampire brought her right in to his back. Upon landing, she grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the ground with such force that blood squirted out from all sides of his face in a circle from the multiple rapid cracks of fractured facial bones.

Babette looked up from the last of the ruffians, her face covered in streaks and smears of carnage. Her visage was nightmarish as she sighted down the wizard. To his credit, he kept his composure enough that he started to call fire to his hands, but Babette was there before he could cast. Disappointingly, their tumble took them out of Sable sight, but the screams that came from the sadistic son of a scamp were quite satisfying.

Seizing the opportunity of the Oblivion-spawned child taking her time with his former interrogator, Lionel pulled a knife from his belt and quickly started toward his captive assassin intent on at least ending her life, but he forgot about Nazir and failed to notice that a new stranger wearing the same black and sanguine leather armor had entered the room.

The Redguard assassin stepped up and brought the pommel of his scimitar onto the cartel kingpin's right shoulder. His right arm went completely numb and he let go the knife as he dropped to his knees. The third assassin was there in a flash, an elven short sword at his throat to prevent any other maneuvers. He looked up, finally seeing the tall blonde Nord woman and knew it was over. His shoulders slumped and his gaze fell to the ground as he awaited his fate.

"Taking on an entire skooma cartel I see," Sable was never so glad to hear Astrid silken voice. "Ah, ever the overachiever." Her matron stroked some hair out of her face as Nazir started to cut away her bindings.

She wasn't paying much attention though. The white-haired assassin's mind replayed Babette's attack on the thugs over and over. Sable had never seen such a display of sheer power. It was magnificent. The men had never stood a chance against her and she had let them know that violently and quite messily before they died. Everything, from opening of their throats, to the fracturing of bones, to the limbs torn from their sockets. And now that she thought about it, she remembered Babette mentioning that she was nearly 300 years old. No person or thing or anything else could hold power over her. Not even Arkay himself. That was her answer. She would become a vampire and know supreme power.

Her thoughts were broken a moment later when the child-vampire came into view. Blood was still dripping off her chin. She smiled an exuberant ten year old girl smile. It would have looked cute if hadn't been so grotesque; bits of tissue still clinging across her cheek and jawline.

"The wizard suffered greatly, sister." Babette exclaimed proudly and then her voice went cold. "I'm only sorry that it didn't last long enough to make up for what the daedra cursed pig did to you."

"Babette," Sable said barely above a whisper. "You must make me like you."

The smile left the vampire's face instantly.

"Let's get you home." Astrid offered her a hand to help her up. Sable just now noticed that the bindings had been cut free. She grasped her matron's hand and slowly sat up and winced as she finally got her first good look at her ruined foot. Interestingly enough, the pain had lessened considerably, but she had to wonder if she would ever walk without a limp again. It still oozed blood and she couldn't tell where the breaks in the skin actually were. She glanced over to where Babette and Malik had crashed to the floor. There was nothing but a pile of gore left from what she could tell. If she hadn't known beforehand, she wouldn't have been sure that what was left had been human.

"Sable, Gabriella was not at the Sanctuary when I got your message." Astrid explained. "We'll have to wrap it and hope for the best until we can get you to her. Can you struggle through it?"

"Are there any of these bastards left to kill?" The injured assassin asked.

"I bet there are still a few we haven't rooted out." The tall blonde answered with a sly smile. "I found these on a table by the door." Astrid handed her a pair of perfectly crafted elven daggers. They had been a gift from Astrid's werewolf husband, Arnbjorn.

"Then, I'll crawl if I have to." Sable answered grimly and full of determination. "But first, this guy."

Sable turned to the cartel leader that her Family had left for her at her request. She knelt down to look at him face to face.

"All this … is compliments of Delvin Mallory of the Thieves Guild in Riften." She didn't even wait to see his reaction before plunging one of daggers through his ear into his skull. His eyes immediately glassed over indicating his life was gone. "Who has the power now?"

"I think I'll ask about that later." Astrid commented. "Ready to finish this?"

Sable nodded. "There is someone we need to find on our way out, so no killing anymore wizards without my approval."

The trio nodded their consent and surrounded her as she hobbled toward the door. She only made it a few steps before she faltered. Nazir quickly went to her right and put himself under her arm to support her weight.

"Babette, you go in front." He instructed. "Take up the rear if you don't mind, mistress." The vampire and their leader complied and they left the torture chamber at a shuffling pace with Sable carrying her right boot.


	17. Chapter 17

He flinched and tried to push himself even further against the stone cave wall and away from the door as he heard it open. He no longer knew how long he'd been imprisoned; only that every day was the same thing. Punishment. There was never any questions asked, just pain. And now the door was opening for the third time that day. They must have been feeling especially nasty.

"Sionis?" A female voice shot through his frightened psyche. He knew that voice. And at that moment it was the loveliest voice he'd ever heard.

"Sable." The mage coughed out. "Please tell me this isn't some awfully cruel trick."

"No, I'm … I'm taking you out of here." Her voice sounded like she was trying to keep back sobs of joy. "The help I sent for arrived."

"Thank the Divines. Get me up and I'll help in whatever way I can." Two shadowy figures – a taller one and the other about the height of a child came over to see about his manacles. A moment later he was free.

"Now that you mention it," Sable said, "do you know much healing magic?"

"A little." Sionis replied. "Why? Are you hurt?"

"A little." She replied with pain in her voice. "Can you take a look?"

"Of course." The mage said. "Get me out into some better light so I can see what I'm working with."

The pair took him out of the dark cave and into the torch lit tunnel outside the door. They laid Sable down and Babette helped Sionis with the wrappings. Upon seeing the incredulous look on his face as he took in the apparent child, he was offered a simple "We'll explain later" type explanation.

"Oh gods!" he exclaimed as soon as he saw the damage. "What in Oblivion happened!?"

"They had … had a mage that tor … tortured me." She answered wincing as the pain was flaring up again with the wrappings removed. "He used frost … frost magic and then fi … fire to do this." The crippled assassin wasn't able to tell him much more than that and just hoped it was enough for her companion to understand what had been done.

"I'm sorry, Sable but this is well beyond my skill in restoration. You need at least an expert in Restoration magic."

"We have one," the tall blonde Nord cut in. "But she is at least a day's journey from here."

"That's too long." Sionis argued. "She could lose the foot by then."

"Can you do enough to get her to our healer?" Astrid pressed.

"I'll do everything I can, of course." The mage replied. "Hopefully it will be enough. The fact that the mage used the frost magic works in her favor though. It looks as though he got her foot cold enough to cause cauterization in place which should curtail the blood loss some. Infection and severe damage deep in the flesh are the bigger worries for her right now."

He turned back to Sable. "This will … well, it will …"

"I know," she cut him off. "Just do what you can."

Sionis put his hands just over her foot and closed his eyes tight in concentration. His hands began to glow in a golden yellow light. Sable clenched her eyes closed and didn't even try to stifle the scream.

* * *

When she came to, Sable found she was in the same underground corridor. Sionis and Babette were still hunched over her and Nazir and Astrid were still standing watch on either side of them. She tested her re-bound foot and found that she was able to move it through a greater range of motion before the pain forced her to stop.

"How long was I out?" She asked.

"Only a couple moments." Sionis answered. "But now that you're back, we should get moving."

"Indeed, we should be on our way back to the Sanctuary." Nazir agreed.

"No, not yet." The mage argued. "I need to get my sister first."

"We need to leave." The Redguard replied, frustration seeping into his voice. "We've had enough delays."

"Nazir is right." Astrid stated. "We should … "

"Then go," Sable interrupted. "But I'm staying to help Sionis."

"You will not." The assassin leader countered, her silken tones becoming hard. "As your leader I'm telling you that we're leaving." She turned her gaze to the mage. "Do you even know where she is being kept?"

Sionis dropped his face to his chest in defeat. He may not have known it, but Sable could still see his face and she saw tears begin to rim his eyes. She heard him begin to chant softly and he brought his hand up ready to ignite it with some form of destructive energy but try as he might, it wouldn't come to his call. He had spent what little he had on healing her foot. She reached up and touched his wrist and gently pushed it back down. He looked up to her, but her gaze had already returned to the two standing above him and it was filled with a steely determination.

"If not for Sionis, I probably wouldn't have survived …" she started but was cut off.

"You very nearly didn't even with his help." Astrid sniped back at her beginning to lose her temper, but Sable cut back in before it could build up in her leader.

"That doesn't matter!" She shouted, silencing her matron. "If it wasn't for him you'd be collecting my corpse instead. I'm helping him find his sister who was being held here to force him to work for them. Help me or don't. But I'm going with Sionis."

There was a long moment and the only sound was the crackling of the lit torches as Astrid stared down at her suddenly defiant protégé. Just as Sable was beginning to convince herself that her matron was going to throw her out of the Family, Astrid finally spoke.

"Very well," she stated, "we will help find your friend's sister. But nothing further. We return home afterwards."

"Agreed."

* * *

They had been searching for a short while and had found relatively nothing thus far. There was very little fight left inside of Cragslane Cavern. Most of the drug dealers that had taken up residence had been slaughtered by the Dark Brotherhood trio of Astrid, Babette, and Nazir during their first pass through to find their trapped sister. Occasionally they had run into a straggler, but each time they had been cut down quickly by the assassins. Now, though, there had been silence for a while as they methodically made their way through the catacombs looking for the cell that held Sionis' sister. Sable finally broke the silence.

"I've been wondering, Sionis. How did they manage to hold you?"

"What do you mean?" The mage asked in reply

"I mean, couldn't you have blasted your way out of the cell?" She clarified. "Aren't you a destruction mage?"

"Aside from some pursuits in other schools of magic, I am primarily a destruction mage, yes." He answered. "However, every mage, no matter how noviced or experienced, has a limit. Just like with how one can only exercise for so long, mages can force the use of magicka for so long before they cannot do so anymore and even though I can exert my will over it for longer than most, I still can only do so for so long."

"Okay, not sure why that means you couldn't blast your way out though." Sable pressed.

"Getting hit with electricity based spells not only hurt, but they have a tendency to disrupt one's ability to exert themselves with magicka." Sionis continued to explain. "Kind of like how sleep deprivation will hinder one's physical abilities. So when I was being tortured, I received a steady diet of shock spells to keep me – for lacked of a better word – drained."

"And while you were in your cell?" She asked.

"Ah, so simple that most probably wouldn't even think of it." He answered. "One of the people the cartel employed was an alchemist. This particular one specialized in two specific concoctions. Skooma being one, and the other being a devious little draught that replenished my strength while also diminishing my ability to connect with magicka. And if there was anything left after that, they would have a mage on standby to summon a dremora to force me to defend myself and make sure I was over exerted and couldn't make that connection."

The group came out of the tunnel they were in and back into the wide cavern with the dog pens where he and Sable had been overrun. There was only more one corridor to search.

"So, why not just let the dremora end you and put a stop to their sadism?" This time it was Astrid who questioned. "Why let the pain continue?"

Sionis answered with only a single word. "Clairiss."

"Your sister." Sable guessed.

The mage nodded affirming her assumption. "I'm the reason she ended up in their clutches. I couldn't allow myself to just die and let her down." He paused and closed his eyes. Surprisingly, a smile lit up his face. "I remember when we were little she was always the one to get into trouble and I was always the one to rescue and protect her. She always has been as naïve as she is beautiful. And because of it, there was always those that wanted to take advantage of her in some way. She was the perfect, tailor-made fall-guy. When I realized it, I always stayed with her to protect her. And she was always there to lift me up and encourage me. She could always smile and make me feel better. If anyone deserved a happily ever after it was her. And just look where I put her."

He choked up and couldn't speak of her anymore. It once again fell silent as they rounded a corner in the tunnel they were in and found what they had been looking for.

She was lying crumpled in a corner at the end of the corridor. A nape of blonde hair lay tangled and matted around her face and shoulders. But it wasn't hard to see how radiant and shining it would have been in the sunlight and with better care. The girl looked battered, but she proved she was alive when she looked up to see who approached.

With a good look at her face, it was easy to see why Sionis described her the way he did. The best word for her was pretty. It still seemed as if she was a girl – not quite yet an adult – with large eyes, a button nose, and a thin but cute mouth. The bruises didn't suit her at all.

"Clairiss!" Sionis cried out through a sob in his voice. He lurched forward towards her before breaking into a run.

But something didn't feel right to Sable. She couldn't quite figure out what it was though. She scanned passage for any trap but did not see any. Everything appeared to be clear, but there was just something that felt wrong. The white-haired assassin noticed that her brother and sisters had tensed as well; they felt the same sense of apprehension. Her mage friend had already made it to Clairiss and knelt down to talk to her, no doubt assuring her that whatever nightmare she had been in was over. A small smile snuck its way on to her face as her gaze lingered on the reunion.

It was gone a moment later when a wail of sheer horror mixed with profound despair ripped the silence of Cragslane Cavern asunder. It was so chilling and off-putting it actually took the band of assassins a moment to realize it came from Sionis. The group ran over to him, with Sable wincing and growling through the pain from her foot. As they got there, it didn't take them long to figure out the issue.

Her once blue eyes were now lifeless. Her once glowing pink skin was now deathly pale and there was even a patch of skin hanging loose under her chin. It was clear what she was now. Clairiss was no more, a lifeless zombie raised by some mage on the way out as one last stab of unbearable torture.

"Sionis," Sable breathed. "I am so sorry. I … I …" No further words would come to her. Another scream erupted from the mage, startling them all again. But this one was different. Whereas the first had been one of amazing agony, this one was filled with such rage that it felt primal and frightening. He raised his hands and without speaking any incantation brought fire swirling all around his fingers and hovering above his palms. There was a menacing quality to it and it was made particularly more fearsome when she remembered his stating that his connection to magicka was over exerted and faded and that he would not be able to make that connection again without an extended rest. And yet, there it was; dancing in his hands.

"You all should leave the cave now." His words were chillingly cold and when he finally looked up from his undead sister the wrath filling his eyes was palpable.

"Sionis, I …" She started again still not knowing what to say to the man.

"Leave now, or perish." He cut her off. "All of you. And I would advise you move quickly."

As they gathered her up and began moving as fast as they dared towards the exit, Sable saw the flaming energy in Sionis' hand begin to swell. She also heard him apologize to what had once been Clairiss before his voice was lost to distance and the clamor of their escape.

* * *

Outside, they were greeted by a hulking dark gray bipedal wolf standing over a slew of torn, mangled bodies.

"Arnbjorn! You came too." Sable exclaimed.

The monster nodded his head in the affirmative before speaking. "Don't get to thinking I like you tidbit. My darling wife made me come." His voice was even more gruff than usual while in his wolf form.

"Did any escape, husband?" Astrid asked. She received a growl in reply. "I was simply asking, dear. Not doubting your abilities. At any rate, we should probably move away from the cave. There is another one that we rescued who seems about to do something rather … extravagant."

The troop of assassins moved a fair distance away from the cave. A moment later, an explosion rocked its way through the cave, shaking the ground and blowing a grand gout of fire out of the entrance. They were all taken aback by force of the magical blast.

"You should probably relinquish your wolf, husband." Astrid requested. "If the one we are waiting for survived that, you might be a bit much for him to take in. He's had quite the soul withering ordeal."

They remained there for a while, waiting to see if the enraged mage would emerge. The minutes passed by slowly making it seem like ages. Sable was surprised to feel her anxiety rise with each passing moment that Sionis didn't emerge. Right when she thought she could not handle it any longer and would head back into the charred cave system to look for him, he emerged from the entrance. He stepped haltingly through the smoking still wafting from the opening looking as if every bit of his strength was gone. The complexion of his face was darkened from walking through the soot and smoke caused by his destructive outburst. He looked out and spotted them, coughed once, and then fell unconscious to the ground.


	18. Chapter 18

"He's waking."

Sable jumped up at the sound of Astrid's voice and limped as quickly as she could after her matron upstairs. They had taken Sionis to The Bee and Barb Inn in Riften and had watched over him with Sable agreeing to go be treated by a healer at the temple of Mara only after making everyone promise to tell her if he woke from his slumber. Two days later he finally had. She didn't understand the sudden anxiety she felt for the mage's wellbeing and she rather disliked it, but for now she couldn't help it; resolving to deal with it later, once they were all safe in the Sanctuary.

As they opened the door to the room they had rented for the mage, Sionis was just sitting up on his elbows.

"Doing okay?" Sable asked the dirty blonde-haired man.

"No," he said quietly, exhaustion evident in his voice. "I don't know that I'll ever be okay ever again."

The white-haired assassin hadn't meant the question that way, but after his response it seemed such a stupid one to ask and her countenance fell.

Sionis just stared into the furs covering his lap and said no more. He was alive, but certainly not well as the despair over his sister was crushing him. But just below it a rage was still boiling and he knew it was a matter of time before it took over if he didn't do something about it.

Not wanting to make it any worse and not knowing what else to do, Sable sat down on the bed next to him and said nothing more. A long while passed before anyone spoke and it was Astrid that finally did so.

"I will not pretend to know your pain." She offered. "And I suspect what I'm about to offer will probably not help alleviate it much, but I would like to invite you to join our Family. You have a place within the Dark Brotherhood if you like."

"Help me." He replied barely above a whisper at first. "Help me take them down for what they did to her and I'll join you." His voice had gained some volume as he made the request out loud.

The two ladies remained silent for a moment in the confusion of his answer.

"But we did take them down." Sable offered. "Do you not remember? No one made it out alive."

"Someone must have." He answered. "A zombie like that can't be sustained beyond the life of the mage that reanimated it. If everyone there had been slain, we would've only encountered a pile of ash instead of the … the … the thing we did."

"It's not possible that anyone survived." Astrid countered, stepping back into the conversation. "Anyone that got passed us or went unnoticed and made it to the exit would have encountered my husband waiting for them. He dropped every person that made it out other than us."

"How can he be so sure he got everyone?" Sionis questioned back some irritation contaminating his tone. "What if someone slipped by while he was dealing with another?"

"Arnbjorn is a werewolf, Sionis." Sable answered him, remaining calm. "He had shifted to his wolf form. No one made it past him."

His gaze fell back to his lap at hearing that. Normally he might find it unsettling to learn about a "family" of assassins that not only housed a werewolf as well as a child, but with the sorrow of Clairiss' desecration gnawing at his very soul, it didn't even affect him.

"Is it possible that there was some mage that had been hiding out maintaining her corpse that was killed when you torched the caves?" She offered thinking – hoping – that the question had filled in all the holes.

"Didn't we ferret out every nook and cranny in there?" He asked, his voice taking on an aggressive tone. "She was literally in the last place to search in the caves. There was nowhere else to look."

"So that could only mean that there was a mage not present at Cragslane that had raised Clairiss and was sustaining her." Astrid supplied, saying out loud what Sionis was thinking.

"Does magic even work like that?" Sable asked.

"No," Sionis answered, losing the edge in his voice. "A mage must remain within a certain proximity of their undead servant."

"Then, how is it possible that your sister … " The younger woman trailed off unable to finish her thought.

"I don't know." Sionis replied, anger and resolve seeping back in. "But I intend to find out. And if you'll help me, I'll join you."

Astrid spoke before Sable could throw her support behind her newest friend. "I am sorry, Sionis," she said, genuine sadness heard in her dulcet tones, "but we cannot." Sable was about to protest her leader's decision, but again didn't get the chance before Astrid continued. "Needle in a haystack doesn't adequately describe what you hope to do. Tracking down a nameless conjurer that could be anywhere in Skyrim or even Tamriel, for that matter, would likely take far more resources and time than the Family can give. I would be glad to honor a request for help with just about anything else, but I fear the task you have set yourself upon can't be fulfilled."

Sable's gaze sank as she realized the truth of Astrid's statement. It simply was not reasonable to think it could be done. And while she wanted so much to help the mage obtain justice, she knew it was time to move on. Her foot was yet not fully healed and still needed the attention of a dedicated healer before she would be able to walk without a limp. There was also the matter of getting Babette to share the gift of vampirism with her before taking on whatever new contracts that came her way.

"Then, I can't join you." Sionis said solemnly. "I must find the bastard that so profaned the spirit of my sister and destroy him. There will be nothing else for me until that is finished." He then turned to the assassin he had decided to partner with in a warehouse on the docks of the very city in which he now lay. "Sable, would you at least join me. It was you that galvanized me to action to begin with. Please stay with me and see this through with me."

For her part, Sable so wanted to stay and finish it with him, but she simply couldn't. She steeled herself against those feelings, knowing that her place was with the Dark Brotherhood; with her Family. They had brought her in and accepted her and loved her. She would not turn her back on them for anything – even helping that darling mage find peace after a tragedy she was partially responsible for bringing about.

"I … I'm truly sorry, but I cannot." She answered with no emotion. It was the only way to keep her true feelings from overcoming her and that was something she would not allow to happen. "I must return with the Family." She wanted repeat Astrid's offer to join the band of assassins, but stopped short. She knew his answer wouldn't change.

His dark eyes shot to her. They were filled with the anger of one who had been betrayed. "You cannot!?" He spat at her. "If it hadn't been for you, Clairiss would still be alive and all you can give me is you're sorry but must go back to your wretched 'family'?" His chest now heaved as he fought his rage. "If this is all you've got to offer me, then leave!"

"Sionis, I …"

"Leave! Get out of here!"

Sable stood speechless, unable to move or speak. She knew that it had only been a short time ago that they had met, but she had shared the power of murder with him and hadn't expected his anger as a reaction.

"Come, sister." Astrid said pulling her from the room. "There is nothing more we can do for him." She gathered her younger sister under her arm. As Sable was led from the room leaving the man to his sorrow, she found herself wishing against all odds that he found the perpetrator and made him die painfully. So very painfully.

* * *

"For the last time, Sable," Babette snapped, "I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to turn you."

"Why not, Babette?" The white-haired assassin gasped. "This is something I want. Please, help me."

The child vampire didn't answer. She just stared at Sable, the look on her face pleading to let the matter drop. It was the fourth or fifth time her friend had brought it up.

Seeing that nothing was forthcoming and frustration from days of asking building up, pushed Sable over the edge of decency.

"I don't see why you keep refusing me this!" She pushed emphatically. "Why would my friend keep such a gift of power to herself? Why are you being so selfish?"

"Selfish!?" Babette screamed. "You think I'm being selfish? Sable, you don't know what you're asking for. Sure, there are benefits, but there is so much about it you don't know. It's not simply a blessing or gift or whatever you seem to think it is. It is an entirely different way of living and no one is fully prepared for it. And I don't know of any way of going back." The vampire had finally come down from her shouting. Now she was imploring Sable to give up her request. "Please trust me on this, Sable. It's because I'm your friend that I refuse you this. It's not what you think it is."

The tall Nord woman lost her will at that moment. Babette had always refused to elaborate on it, and the reasoning was always the same. But she had never been that emotionally driven in her responses before. Sable was done asking and nodded her concession to the vampire, mumbling an apology which Babette accepted before she walked away. The white-haired assassin left her friend in the alchemy room and headed straight for her room.

Once there, she closed the door and sat on her bed. Sable removed her boots and stared down at the spider web of pink scars that laced their way all over her foot. The healing at the Temple of Mara in Riften had been painful nearly beyond sanity. Now, with further healing courtesy of Gabriella's, the pain was finally starting to subside allowing her to walk with just a hint of a limp. She figured it was going to be about another week before she was ready to try running or sneaking. Probably a while after that before she could take on another mission.

She sighed wondering what it was that kept Babette from bestowing vampirism upon her. If Babette wouldn't help, there had to be some other way to become a vampire. She had heard that those that somehow survived an encounter with the creatures would sometimes become vampires themselves. However, she wasn't anxious to go searching them out and picking fights with them. Especially as her mind replayed the glorious carnage Babette had wreaked when they had come to her rescue.

Her contemplations turned eventually toward Sionis. She truly wanted to help him find peace, but she had agreed with Astrid that it would have been nearly impossible to do what he requested. Besides, in the condition she had been in, she wouldn't have been much help anyway. Still, the tone of betrayal in his voice haunted her and there didn't seem to be anything she could do to shake it. She questioned whether he was right – whether she was responsible for what had happened to his sister. With the uncomfortable feelings tearing their way through her thoughts, she figured to throw herself back into her contracts as soon as she was able. Keeping busy, the pale blue-silver eyed assassin hoped, would keep the disturbing thoughts of the mage at bay long enough for them to disappear altogether.

* * *

Sifting through the ashes that was all that remained of Cragslane Cavern, Sionis now deeply regretted his explosive outburst. The pain and despair had been so great that death and destruction had been all that he wanted. The sheer force of the fireballs and explosions along with the suddenly seemingly unfettered connection to magicka had surprised him. He had been completely drained; it should have been impossible for him to have cast again without a long rest or replenishment from a potion. But then, curiously, through the agony of what had been done to Clairiss, he had felt a surge welling up inside him. A moment later, it felt like it was nearly boiling over, threatening to overwhelm him if not released. And while he had enjoyed the punishment he had meted out on the cave system, the complete desolation left nothing for him to find. No evidence or clues as to who had really been behind the drug smuggling operation. Which meant there was no lead on the mage that had so blasphemed the pure and beautiful life of his sister.

Strangely enough, the only regret he had about his torching of the caves was that he hadn't thought to look around and investigate a bit first. Shoulders slumping, he once more muttered the incantation to detect life. He looked around, not really knowing why since he didn't expect it to show him anything. It hadn't revealed anything the countless times he had cast it as he moved throughout complex of tunnels and caverns. But then, there is was.

The pinkish glow was so faint he almost missed it, but there it was. He quickly took off at run to find the source. There had to be life still within the cave and he was going to find it, and then he would extract some answers.

As he ran through the tunnels, the telltale glow of a life force became brighter, but as he rounded a corner in the tunnel he came to a dead end. The pile of rocks, dirt, and boulders went from floor to ceiling. The collapse being yet another roadblock his destruction created. He felt the rage rising up within himself again. He would not be turned back – not when potential answers were so close.

Stepping back, he drew upon his magicka and chanted the words for a fireball. It seemed to cost nearly no effort. Ever since that fateful day, it seemed that drawing upon that mystic connection took far less of a toll on him, required less of his will. Once the flaming energy coalesced in his hand, he threw it at the cave in. The rock pile exploded forward giving way to the force of the missile. The tunnel opened only momentarily as there was still plenty of earth above to refill the cave in. The dark-eyed mage nearly growled audibly at the persistence of this obstacle. But he would not be denied and an idea formed.

On this second attempt, Sionis conjured the same fireball in one hand and readied frost magic in the other. As soon as he shot the fireball, he pushed a gusher of ice at the ceiling of the tunnel, hoping to form a shell to hold the ground above. It was tricky and he smiled when he saw a now mostly clear path into the tunnel beyond. He had pulled it off. The smile dissolved a bit when he heard the protective ice shield crack. There was apparently a lot of weight still up there and his impromptu awning was having trouble shouldering it. He would have to be quick. He needed to locate whoever was still here and drag them back through, before the ceiling gave way again.

He sprinted now as much as he could trying to be careful of the uneven ground. The spell had extinguished a while ago and he had been so focused that he only now remembered to re-cast it. He did so and the pink glow manifested itself it brighter than ever as he rounded a corner and found the source of life in the cave.

A large frostbite spider had found some way in and had made itself at home, quite content to feed upon the leftover bodies and the skeevers that had found their way in search of a carrion meal. Sionis cursed himself in his mind. He should've known better, should have realized that all sorts of vermin would have moved in after the massacre that had happened here a week before.

The spider noticed him almost immediately has it had probably heard him crashing through the tunnel a long way off. And now it a chance at live prey and it wasn't going to pass that up. It immediately charged him. The mage countered it by summoning flames in both hands and dousing the foul creature with the fiery invocation. It screeched loudly in pain as the fire began to singe and char its body, but still it came forward. If it could just get to him before it died. But it was not to be. Sionis backpedaled as quickly as he could as he kept pouring the flames all over the spider. And a moment later it crumpled to the ground dead. The acrid smell of burnt hair and charred spider forced Sionis back the way he had come before he vomited.

He left Cragslane Cavern without further incident aside from his ceiling of ice finally losing the battle with the earth above. It came down with a loud crack right after he had passed through it. It had startled him greatly since he had forgotten all about it. His mind had been filled with thoughts of what his next move might be and it had taken at least a few moments to get his breathing back under control after the roofed crashed back down behind him, sealing that section of the cave complex once again.

Outside he looked over the broken plains of The Rift, tears welling in his eyes. Every hope he had on getting a lead on his sister's murderer had gone up in smoke in what was now a den of spiders and skeevers. He had nowhere else to look now. He knew of no other bases of operation used by the skooma dealers nor of any other associates. The trail was now cold and he didn't know what the next step was. He only knew that he couldn't forget what had been done. He couldn't let it go. Somehow, someway he would find the mage responsible and he would end said mage as violently and as painfully as he possibly could.

He set toward Kynesgrove since he figured it was the closest town big enough to house an inn, not knowing how or where they would come, but determined to find answers.


	19. Chapter 19

Sionis did his best to give a polite nod to the barmaid as she set his latest tankard of mead down on his table. He sat in a far corner away from all the other patrons in the Silver-Blood Inn. The dark-eyed mage looked haggard and very tired and now had a fair amount of stubble growing its way into a beard. He did not remember the last time he had bathed, but he didn't care either. The only thing he cared about was finding the man who had so desecrated Clairiss.

But it seemed that the Divines saw fit to test his sanity. It had been months and every lead he had chased down always ended with him dealing with frostbite spiders. Most had been those of normal size and not much trouble, but there had been a few instances when the creatures had been rather large and fairly dangerous.

The last one had been the worst yet. In what had to be a rare instance of him feeling some sort of obligation, Delvin Mallory had sent him a letter with a tip to reach out to a fence of theirs in Whiterun. Once the man there had been "persuaded" to talk, he had revealed that he had intercepted a communication between two agents working for the Cragslane cartel. It had mentioned experimenting with briar hearts to see if they could be used to increase the addictiveness of the skooma they manufactured.

That had sent him to The Reach in search of some kind of connection among the Forsworn. It had taken no small amount of persistence, but eventually he had learned from some of the city guard that there had been a small organized skooma trade that had operated out an old abandoned Forsworn redoubt called Hart's Crown. As far as anyone knew, it had remained uninhabited since the guard had cleared out the drug traders.

Sionis had quickly discovered that the old fortress ruins had not remained unoccupied. It had been infested with all manner of vermin. He had pressed forward hoping to find any clues and eventually ended up face to face with a massive frostbite spider. It was the biggest he had ever seen and killing it had taken every bit of spell flinging he could muster.

Every clue he had chased, every lead he had followed; every one of them had ended with the spiders. The first couple of times it had seemed odd, but now it was an all too familiar pattern. He was starting to wonder just how cruel the gods could be.

He had just lifted his drink to his lips when a voice intruded - a voice that was saturated with a purring kind of sensuality.

"May I join you?"

The mage looked up to see a woman so alluring that it couldn't be considered fair. Black hair contrasted strikingly against her alabaster skin as it flowed a short ways past her shoulders stopping just above the low neckline of her dress. The fabric was the color of midnight and clung to her curvy body with a long slit up each side to show off her legs. Her dark locks framed her face that held beautifully full red lips and eyes of the deepest indigo. She smiled as he looked at her.

"I'd rather you not." Sionis replied not caring how rude he was being.

"Any reason why not?" She asked.

The mage sighed. "If you're looking to offer me any Dibellian services, I'm not interested."

The woman giggled. "I assure you I am not one of those stuck up priestesses."

"I guess not," he acknowledged after taking in her attire once again. "What do you want, then?"

"Only to talk for a bit. Perhaps offer some help." She replied ignoring his rudeness once more.

"And just how do you expect to help?" He questioned as he looked down to his drink.

"You might be surprised, Sionis." She purred.

Sionis' gaze snapped back to her emerald eyes. "How do you know me?"

She smiled a demure smile and he now saw that while her teeth looked normal, he couldn't shake the impression that they were actually pointed somehow. He wondered if perhaps he'd had too much mead. "You have invited me to join you, then?" She asked.

The mage motioned for her to sit in the empty chair opposite him. "Now, how do you know me?" He asked again once she was seated.

"Let's just say that in my … neck of the woods there are some paying you much attention. But why don't you tell me what troubles you?"

"You know who I am but not my plight?" The mage asked incredulously.

"I want to hear it from you." She stated as if it was just that simple as she folded her hands together. Her fingers seemed unusually long to Sionis, but he pushed it aside not sure why something so innocuous would catch his attention. In the end, he decided there was no reason to conceal his quest. He had talked to a great many strangers already.

"I am searching for another mage." He began. At this, his visitor rested her chin upon her entwined fingers. He again took note of her unusually long fingers, but it was gone before he could think much of it. "A mage that was responsible for the desecration of one dear to me. She was reanimated and made to deceive me into thinking she was still alive and cause me pain and suffering." He looked up from his recollections for a moment to the woman's now brown eyes. Her eyes seemed to be always changing color, but once again he couldn't seem to hold on to the observation. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Continue." She purred, her hair now looking a bit frayed and tangled like cobwebs.

"The strange thing is that the mage that raised her corpse was nowhere near by." He said. "I've never heard of any mage with that kind of power. Generally, reanimation requires a close proximity in order to maintain the zombie. That means I'm probably dealing with some much more powerful than myself."

"Not necessarily." His visitor interjected.

"What do you mean?" The mage asked with urgency. "Do you know something about this?"

"Oops." She quipped. "Looks like I let it slip, didn't I? I might know a little something perhaps."

"Please tell me." He replied emphatically. "If you know anything that might help me find the bastard that so blasphemed the life of my sister, tell me."

"Hmmmm … I guess I could tell you a little something." She returned arching an eyebrow over one of her eyes – now red. "The mage you seek is not all powerful by himself." She offered after a moment of letting him silently beg. "He had help."

"What do you mean?" He asked irritation now finding its way into his voice. "I'm searching for a team of mages now?"

"Not quite." She replied playfully, her face had now become quite sallow and gaunt. Her teeth almost seemed pointed now, but just as before, these details vanished before they could really take hold. "Come to my home and meet me. I shall reveal more then."

* * *

Sionis started as if waking from a terrible dream. The woman was gone and he was sitting in the inn just as he had been. He looked down to his tankard to see that it was nearly full as if the entire conversation had never happened. He called the barmaid over to his table.

"This will sound strange, I'm sure, but what happened to the woman that I was talking with?" He asked when she arrived.

"What woman?" The barmaid replied, confused.

"I've been talking with a woman for at least 20 minutes." Sionis replied. "Surely you saw her here as you were walking about."

"I don't know what you've been through, but it must have been something quite unsettling because the only thing I've seen you do is just stare at the wall for the last 20 minutes or so." She countered. "No one has even approached you, much less sat down and talked with you."

"What!?" He cried. "You had to have seen her. Black hair, white skin, and eyes the color of … they were …"

"Ok, I'd hate to do it, but if you don't let me return to my duties, I'll call the guard and have you thrown out."

The mage paused a bit before finally letting the barmaid go. "Yes, I see that I must have been mistaken. My apologies."

The woman turned in a huff and disappeared back into the now crowded Silver-Blood Inn.

Sionis sat dejected and more frustrated than ever. Had it all been some cruel hallucination? It had seemed so real. Shaking his head he rose to make his way to his room. On the way, he questioned several other patrons of the inn and none had seen the woman with whom he had conversed. But he couldn't dismiss the episode. There was something in the back of his mind that nagged him about it and refused to let it go.

As he shut the door to his room, he dug his map of Skyrim out of his robes and opened it on the small table within. Perhaps staring at it for a bit would help him decide where to go next. Once again, his hope of finding the mage responsible for his sister had vanished and he had no idea what was next. His eyes roamed the paper without really seeing anything on it. Then his gaze snapped to a small detail.

There was a new mark on his map. He was sure it hadn't been there before. At the south most point of the swamps that made up a good amount of Hjaalmarch, a crude depiction of a house had been drawn. As he wondered how it got there, the voice of the mysterious woman invaded his thoughts.

"Yes, my dear mage. That is my home. Meet me and I will tell you all you need to know."

And then it was gone. He knew beyond a doubt now that she had been real; that her promise was real. Sionis made up his mind to head to Hjaalmarch as soon as it was light. He knew he would need to rest, but as he laid down on the bed, he knew sleep was unlikely to find him that night.

* * *

Sionis checked his map again. He was in the right place - he was sure of it - but it certainly wasn't what he had expected. Instead of a house or cottage or even a rundown shack, he stood before a cave running into the ground underneath the marshes. The outside was covered in the webs that undoubtedly belonged to frostbite spiders. Once again he had been led to those infernal creatures. This particular den must have been absolutely infested with them as he could faintly hear the scuffling of the large arachnids from inside. And as maddening as it was to have been brought to the vermin yet again, he decided to enter the cave. He couldn't explain why, but he just felt that this had not been some cruel joke and that he really would find the woman from the bar inside. It had only taken him a couple of days to make the journey and he wasn't about to leave without seeing it through.

He slowly made his way down into the cave. It was rather dark inside so he conjured a ball of flame in his hand to provide some light. He hadn't made it very far before he ran into the creatures. They were present in droves. Spiders hung on the walls and ceiling as well as skittered all over the floors.

Sionis felt a panic rise up as countless eyes turned in his direction. Frostbite spiders were usually not too difficult to deal with (provided they remained at a normal size), but the sheer number present here would overwhelm him quite quickly. They held him in their gazes for a long moment before making any move and when they finally did, it wasn't what he expected.

Rather than attacking or making any aggressive move, they gave way. The multitude slowly retreated with every step the mage took further into the cavern. There was only one tunnel leading ever deeper into the ground. As the vermin gave ground, he saw the walls were so covered with webbing that he couldn't see the stone beneath.

Still he pressed onward, further into the cave and still the spiders made no move to impede him, always scuttling backwards and drawing him further into their underground lair. Finally the tunnel opened into an immense cavern. The fire in his hand did not provide enough illumination to see the sides and ceiling, but it was enough to show that he had no hope of survival if the spiders decided to attack. So many glittering eyes were trained on him that it almost looked like a starry night within the cave. He briefly considered trying to flee.

Again the spiders moved backwards, still making way for him. Sionis remained where he was, not making a move while waiting for the suffocating numbness of anxiety to recede. He had no notion of how long he stood there before a voice infiltrated his mind. It was the voice of his helpful mystery woman.

"Welcome to my home, Sionis. Please come further so I can chat with you and tell you what you need to know."

Snapped from his trance, Sionis stepped forward and fell away into darkness.

* * *

It was dark and Sionis couldn't really move. As much as he struggled, he made no progress at freeing himself. If anything, it seemed that his flailing attempts to gain freedom of movement only served to constrain him even more. Eventually he tired and stopped fighting and took in his surroundings.

It was dark. There seemed to be nothing all around him, but as he looked out into the apparent oblivion, he began to see what looked like strands of white all around him. As his gaze swept over it all, it appeared to him that he was caught in a massive cob web. He now saw that he was wrapped in the same frayed and tangled strands of white that made up the web. With that revelation, he figured to burn his way out with some conjured flames. But, despite his best effort, he couldn't make a connection to his magicka and summon flames or any other spell.

Sionis began to wonder if it was going to be his fate to waste away and die tied up in the darkness when her voice came out of the air just in front of him.

"Ah, there's my hopeful mage." Her voice was playful and yet somehow malicious at the same time. "Welcome to my home, Sionis."

"You tricked me." The mage replied furiously despite his inability to do anything about it. "You're promise was just lies to trap me."

"Not quite." Her voice was now nestled just behind his right ear. "I did mean to trap you, though I did not lie. I certainly intended to tell you what you needed to know to fulfill your quest before devouring you."

"Devour?" Sionis answered uncertainly, his anger completely washed away. "What are you?"

There was a murmuring laughter now on his left side. "I am beyond you and your questions." Her voice teased. "But I will indulge you your inquiries."

There was silence for a moment and he began to wonder if his question would be answered when the voice startled him. "Many of you mortals call me Webspinner." It was right behind him and was devoid of its former playfulness. Now, her voice was calm and even in its malevolence, and the mage couldn't contain a shiver as it ran through him.

"Mephala." Sionis breathed.

"So glad you've heard of me, my magic morsel." Her voice had regained a delighted twinge to it. "But, perhaps you'd enjoy some conversation prior to my feasting."

"You still mean to tell me about the mage responsible for Clairiss." He stated in disbelief. He almost didn't want to know now if it meant only that he would die immediately afterwards. His mind began whirling, trying to think of some way to get out of Daedric Lord's trap alive.

"Of course," Mephala replied now back in front of him but still unseen. "After all," she continued with a most malicious laugh, "a promise is a promise."

"Tell me then." The mage urged.

"You do indeed seek a mage." She answered, her voice coming from above him. "The one you seek made quite the deal to acquire the power that enabled him to permanently raise your dead sister."

"Tell me how I would find him!" Sionis yelled out growing both desperate and frustrated.

Her initial response was mocking laughter before finally saying. "Would you like his location, or name?"

"Why not both?" The mage questioned. "Does it matter that I have all the information if you simply mean to feast upon me? Would it not make it much more torturous?"

"Hmm, you do have a point, don't you?" The Daedric Prince mused. "Though I suppose there is some little plan forming in that beautifully delicious mind of yours." She paused a long moment before reaching a decision. "It was a good try on your part, but I'm not the type to reveal everything. You'd need to make a deal with Mora for that."

"Perhaps I shall speak with him next then." Sionis replied defiantly.

She laughed and it floated all around him. It was awhile before she spoke again.

"I do so enjoy you!" Mephala cooed. "I shall savor you."

Sionis began to feel a panic rise up uncontrollably. It was somehow unnatural, as if it was being forced upon him rather than one that he himself felt. Then fatigue and a feeling of heaviness began to slowly wash over him. He felt as if his whole body was flushing and he had to suppress the urge to vomit. Apparently, the Deadric Lord's meal had begun.

"Wait!" He cried out. "You promised me information." He hoped to the Divines that The Webspinner would relent. The panic he felt was quickly becoming his own, but there was also shame and disappointment at not having fulfilled his vow to his sister to avenge her. And oddly enough, his thoughts turned to Sable. For some reason he could not explain, he felt a longing and a sadness that he had not been able to see the white-haired assassin one last time.

His thoughts were broken by Mephala's voice answering his plea. It no longer held the sweetly menacing quality as before. Now it was filled with annoyance and impatience.

"Does it matter that you have any of the promised information?" She spat. "You said that yourself, didn't you, mage. Why should I indulge you now?"

"I can indulge you in return. For all eternity." The mage replied frantically. He wasn't sure if it was true, but he had heard of mortals serving the Daedra beyond death in the afterlife. It wasn't something he found appealing in the slightest, but for now much of his rational thought was pushed aside by the need to get the information he needed to avenge his sister and then survive to do something with it.

"For all eternity?" the Webspinner mused. "You're offering your soul in service to me, then?"

"Yes, on two conditions." He regretted the answer almost as soon as he said it, but didn't care if it would put Clairiss' soul at rest.

"Name them." Mephala hissed excitedly.

"Let me go to live out the rest of my life and give me the information I seek."

"Done!" The Daedra shouted triumphantly. "You may go free and find the answers you seek at Mistwatch Keep."

"What about a name?" Sionis wasn't sure if he was pushing the terms of the agreement he made for his soul, but he didn't care.

"His name wouldn't be of any use to you," she replied, "He may not even know it himself anymore. At least not his original name."

Confusion clouded his thoughts at her reply, but before he could really ponder it, she spoke again.

"But, out of my great benevolence, I will give you a gift before you leave me. Enjoy it my champion, I will be watching with much eagerness."

As soon as she finished, he felt what seemed like a strong breeze blow over him. A strong vibration crashed over the webbing that was holding him and he screamed. He felt a white hot pain like two sharp blades had been jammed through the top of his skull. Then Sionis knew no more.


	20. Chapter 20

His eyes stung from the brightness of day when he awoke. Sionis reached up and felt for holes in the top of his head and finding none, looked around. He was in the swamps near the city of Morthal. In fact, after surveying his surroundings, he figured he must be pretty close to where he had found the entrance to Mephala's cave, but there was no sign of it. It was as if it had just vanished from the surface of Skyrim. Answering a strange compulsion, he pulled out his map and found that the crude shack drawing that had been there to mark Mephala's home was gone. Not even an indent or crease was evident to show where the mark had been.

Sionis again felt is head wondering just what "gift" Mephala had given before getting up and beginning the trek to Morthal to find a carriage driver to take him as close to Mistwatch Keep as he could get.

* * *

Sionis had used fair amount of his dwindling funds to buy a horse in Whiterun. The carriage driver had been willing to take him further on to Ivarstead and eventually to Riften beyond, but the delays were unacceptable to him; not when he was this close. Either town would have been closer to his ultimate goal of Mistwatch, but the carriage driver explained that he would be stopping at least a day in each place to make sure his horse remained in good shape and that he had enough supplies.

Those waits would have been unbearable for the vengeance driven mage so he had bought a horse and had nearly killed the poor beast pushing it to get to Mistwatch as quickly as possible.

And now here he was. He stood in front of an archway that served as the only entrance through the wall that surrounded the keep. On either side of it were two towers though the one to his left was broken and had fallen into ruin some time ago. Beyond the courtyard on the other side of the archway stood three more towers bunched together forming a triangle towards the far side of the keep. Each one of these was taller than the last with expansive balconies providing access from one to the other. It was all designed in such a way that one would have to work their way through the each of the shorter towers in order to get to the highest one.

He had to take a moment to push down the rage threatening to boil over as he stared at the archway leading to the walled courtyard. The hesitation nearly cost him his life as an unseen archer took aim and fired an arrow. It would've ended his quest, but a moment before his unknown assailant fired, Sionis was pushed by what felt like a concentrated gust of wind against his back. It was forceful enough to cause him to stumble a bit as the arrow whistled by his ear, just missing him.

" _My last gift to you my magically delectable morsel."_  He heard an alluring yet grating voice in his head. " _Do enjoy yourself as you strike them down._ "

Sionis quickly turned and retaliated. He pulled upon his connection to Aetherius and fired an ice shard at the archer standing at the crenellations near the archway – and missed. The freezing spike's trajectory was too low and it was certain to crash and shatter harmlessly against the stone of the keep's outer wall. But that wasn't what happened.

He noticed that the shard was quite larger than he had intended, but that wasn't the only unexpected result of his casting. A split second later, the ice crashed not into, but rather through the stone crenellation, blasting the top most part of the wall to thousands of pieces of rock. The shrapnel from the rock and ice slammed into the archer causing him to tumble backwards over the far ledge to his death in the courtyard below.

Sionis looked at the palm of his hand in disbelief, dumbstruck by the sheer power of what he had just unleashed. It was then he thought he heard a rather mischievous laughter echo through his mind.

" _Have fun!_ " The voice chimed in his head.

"Mephala." He whispered to himself astonished. "This is the gift you spoke of?" His only answer was more of her laughter ringing through is mind.

Shouts of alarm interrupted his contemplation. The explosion of ice and stone was sure to have alerted any other guards milling around the exterior and now they came running towards him. As they rounded the archway and came into view, Sionis cast again.

Lightning shot from his hand, arching unerringly toward the first of the attackers. It blasted clean through his chest before jumping to the next in line. The first of the stricken men slumped forward to his knees with a fist sized hole in his chest before falling face first to the ground. The three others behind him died in similar fashion as the chain lightning jumped to each of them in turn. The mage couldn't help a boyish giggle escape his lips.

He strode almost arrogantly into the outer court of the keep and stopped a moment to admire his handiwork with the initial archer he'd taken down – along with a chunk outer wall – with the massive ice spike. He once again looked down at his own hands in disbelief at the sheer destructive force that he'd unleashed. He was amazed. Would there be any foe he couldn't kill? Anything he couldn't overcome now?

His contemplations were interrupted by a distorted crack and a flash of black and purple energy that swirled around the twisted, frost-ridden corpse of the archer before disappearing into the body. A moment later the dead bowman stirred and began to rise.

The corpse had gashes and other wounds all over its face and upper body from the exploded stone crenellation. There were even some rock shrapnel embedded in a few places. The creature didn't lurch at him as most reanimations would, but rather grabbed a blade from the sheath on his hip and slashed at him.

The mage quickly backed away well beyond the reach of the undead thug before raising his hands in a gout of fire. Just like the first two spells he had evoked, this one was greatly magnified in power. He winced at how bright the blaze was. When he relinquished it, there was nothing but ashes left of the raised corpse.

Sionis knew now that Mephala hadn't led him astray. The sheer power and unnatural life-likeness of the automaton were uncannily similar to what had been done to Clairiss when he had found her. Multiple bursts of the same distorted cracking noises alerted him that the other guards were now being raised as well. Anger welled up within has he realized how close he was to avenging his sister. The only thing that stood between him and righteous justice were these non-living zombies. He raised both hands and called more fire. The resulting inferno incinerated the four newly raised corpses of the other guards.

As he strode confidently to the door to the keep, smiling at the thought of how easily his vengeance was about to be meted out, he wasn't so sure he regretted the deal he had made with The Lady of Whispers.

Inside, he met with surprisingly little resistance, though any he did find had to be killed twice just like his encounter with the bandit-guards outside. He used ice magic almost exclusively. He didn't want to start a fire and potentially kill the mage responsible before he could get to him. Sionis wanted to have a conversation with him first. It was likely to be a rather painful conversation for them both.

* * *

Sable ducked under the swing of one the creatures, swiping one of her fine elven dagger through its spindly arm as she rose up on the other side. It hissed in pain and rage as its severed arm fell to the ground. In its madness, the monstrosity rushed her fiercely and wildly. At the last possible moment before it struck, she spun down into a crouch and kicked one leg out, sweeping its feet out from under it. With it on the ground, it had no chance as both of her blades flashed by its neck, opening its throat. It let out a couple of hideous gasps before it disintegrated into nothingness.

Besides her, Nazir had just finished dealing with the last one. A powerful stroke from his great scimitar sent his creature's head flying free from its shoulders. It never hit the ground as both it and the body also, vanished and was gone.

The creatures had been showing up at the Sanctuary almost daily for the last week. They could never get in – the Black Door ensured that – but it had now become a daily ritual of going out and purging the area of the creatures. They ranged in color from light grey to almost black with red markings on the tips of the spikes that protruded from their arms and backs and down their tails. They were rather gaunt, but she wouldn't quite describe them as emaciated. Despite that, they were discovered to be quite strong and dangerous. They all had three long clawed fingers on each hand and several tusk-like teeth protruding straight out of their mouths forcing it into a grotesque circular shape.

"What are these things?" Sable asked exasperated from the daily fights.

"I know not, sister." The redgaurd replied, his deep voice showing signs of frustration as well. "But perhaps if we can find out, we can find out where they come from and eliminate them for good." He paused, cleaning his curved sword with a cloth and sheathing it before continuing. "Astrid has sent a message to Festus to recall him back to the Sanctuary. Perhaps our resident expert on everything can shed some light on this daily plague."

The white-haired assassin nodded her assent with a smile at her brother's sarcasm before heading back into the Sanctuary. In the time since she had parted from Sionis, she had thrown herself into her training. Aside from it helping to take her mind off of him, she figured it would only help her in her quest to best Arkay, to overcome the power death itself held over her. She had stopped trying to convince Babette to turn her into a vampire. The forever child seemed to have a rather tainted view on what been gifted her and Sable didn't want to damage their friendship over it.

So she had taken surprisingly few assignments. Instead she spent nearly all her time with any of the Family that would spar with her. Desiring to hone her fighting skills to the finest, deadliest edge possible. She had realized that in her desire to prove herself above the God of Life and Death, she had become reckless. She had purposely taken unnecessary risks to put herself in potentially life-threatening situations just to see if she could best them. And while it had perhaps made her more resourceful and a better fighter with her blades, it had nearly killed at least three times.

Sable and Astrid had held a somewhat spirited debate about her actions after hearing Delvin's favor. While they agreed that she was right to hit the stash-house in Riften immediately, Astrid was of the opinion that she should waited for help before assaulting Cragslane Cavern. Sable insisted that there hadn't been the time. She asserted that the element of surprise was too important and defended her position citing that she had inside information from the mage that had joined her. In the end, they had ended up agreeing to disagree about the strategy Sable had taken. However, they both agreed that Sable had become too reckless; there was no need to give Arkay a handicap. Like always, Astrid seemed to hold no ill will or disrespect towards her young protégé. She had expressed other assassins had similar experiences or thoughts and that they should be used to learn and improve oneself.

And with that realization, Sable had spent nearly all her time training her skills; even taking up archery so she could have the advantage in just about any situation she faced. It was a few weeks later when the strange creatures had begun to show up outside the sanctuary. Veezara had been the first to encounter them. The Shadowscale had almost been taken unaware and, fortunately, there had only been one of the creatures that first day. Afterwards, they had started showing up in groups and the Family had started a rotation for who would go out in pairs and see about clearing them out. Sable made sure she was out there every day. Not only did it provide some additional training, she just felt it had something to do with Sionis' quest for justice for his sister and she owed him whatever help she could provide.

* * *

Barely being able to keep his rage from overwhelming him, Sionis ran across the upper balcony of Mistwatch Keep to the door of the final tower. A moment later, he magically ripped it right out of the stone and threw it away into one of the many hot springs surrounding the keep far below. The beleaguered mage stepped scornfully into the tower. Thanks to Mephala's dramatic amplification of his power, this mage wouldn't stand a chance against him. He would suffer and Clairiss could finally rest peacefully.

He ran up the last spiral staircase into the top room. To his surprise, nothing happened. There were no defensive traps set up. No attacks greeted him. In fact, there was no greeting at all. The mage he had sought for so long took no notice of him. The obliviousness of the mage caused Sionis to pause. He took in his unaware adversary.

He was an altmer; a tall one. It looked as if his hair had once been lustrous, but now hung in dirty unattended clumps. His once proud Thalmor robes were now worn and tattered. He raised his hands in flourishes as he muttered to himself revealing bone thin and splotched fingers. As he gazed at the evidence of malnourishment and lack of personal upkeep, Sionis began to wonder about the answer he was given by The Webspinner. This mage didn't seem to be in full possession of his faculties.

Sionis just stood there watching. He had played out this moment so many times in his head as he had searched for the one responsible for so blaspheming the spirit of his sister and with it being nothing like what he'd imagined, he wasn't sure how to proceed. What was he supposed to do with this? Was it some cruel trick of Mephala? But if it was, why would she gift him with such power?

And so he just stood there watching; trying to make up his mind on whether he would stay and confront the man, or just go and try to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. He almost turned and left the room several times, but just couldn't do it, always turning back to stare and try to sort out what he should do. He was about to speak up and finally make his presence known, when the high elf noticed him.

"Ah, I see I have a visitor." The former Thalmor stated with a calm even voice tinged with excitement at having company. He eyes were golden yellow and looked thoughtful. "And a fellow wizard at that. Do come in."

Sionis stepped further into the room. He'd never conversed with a crazy person before and so far it hadn't been what he expected. Weren't the insane supposed to have that wild "I'm crazy" look to their eyes and talk in such a way that just seemed more insane? Perhaps he wasn't crazy after all and there was some other explanation for his lack of personal care.

"And what I can help you with, my dear young man?" The elf asked.

"Well," Sionis began having no idea what to say. This was nothing like how it was supposed to go. There was supposed to be a confrontation, followed by a battle of spellcasting ending with him standing victorious and knowing Clairiss' soul was finally at peace. This was so civil that it was disconcerting.

For his part, the altmer stood patiently with a kindly look on his face, waiting for Sionis to gather his thoughts and eventually break past his confusion.

"I guess I'm looking for a mage quite powerful in conjuration," the dirty blonde mage finally stated, "specifically with reanimation."

"Ah, you've come to the right place then." The high elf said with a flourish, his countenance lighting up. "There is none greater at bringing order to our wretched world than I, Mala Aran Naga."

"Bringing order?" Sionis mused. "How are you putting the world into order?"

"By bestowing the gift of everlasting death!" The older mage stated enthusiastically. "I have the power to permanently raise those fallen."

"And how does that make them better?" Sionis questioned unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.

"How does it not?" the altmer replied. "They are freed from the shackles of thought. They no longer possess their free will. The burden of making their own decisions is gone. They only serve, and do so unerringly. What could be better for them? And once all living creatures are put under the glorious state of perpetual death our world can finally be perfect. Free from war. Free from heinous crime. Free from hunger and pestilence and sadness and pain! By the Divines, it will be beautiful!"

"If all are brought to this new way of existence, how would they know what to do? Whom would they serve?" The dark-eyed mage questioned.

"That," the ex-Thalmor replied with true sorrow filling his voice and eyes, "is the only sadness in my endeavor. There would have to one remain living in order to ensure the perfection of this new world would continue. And sadly, it will be my burden to carry as I would not put the mantle of suffering life on anyone else. I think that's how he wanted it."

"How who wanted it?" the younger mage asked.

"The prince." The altmer replied. "He is the over-thrower. He not only helped me see the vision of a world brought to order and perfection, but he also gave me the power to carry it out. The only thing my master asked in return was that I help him through the gauntlet and that I remain living to guide the pristine new world of the non-living."

Sionis balked. His original assessment of the elf returned in full. This one was over the moons crazy. He knew the conversation should end and he should kill the lunatic, but he couldn't help continuing.

"What about happiness and joy? What about mercy and compassion? What about … love?" Sionis found it odd that his thoughts raced momentarily to Sable with the last question, but he pushed it aside and continued. "Surely the world would be a much darker place without them. How could you claim perfection without those being shared by everyone?"

"Lies!" The altmer shot back forcefully, his voice strained with loathing. "They are nothing but lies. Happiness only serves to lead one to sorrow. Mercy! Compassion!" He was shouting now. "They only cover the true motivations of pride and self-gratification of those that wield them. And love!? If you ever want to see true pain, just look to love. Misery is all that the disgusting ideal of love provides!"

The words were so twisted, so vile and revolting that Sionis couldn't keep the look of horror from his face.

"You don't see it, do you?" The altmer chided. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. No one yet has had the sagacity to share the marvelous vision of what Tamriel could be. Shame that clarity will only come to you once I have given you eternal death. Much like the young maid that had the privilege of being the first. She only had her eyes opened once they were closed."

"Young maid?" Sionis felt his rage kindling back to life as he heard that last part. He knew to whom the altmer was referring, but had to ask. He had to hear it.

"Such a pretty young girl I made her." Mala Aran Naga answered. "She sat crying in the den of some skooma peddlers when I set her free."

That was what Sionis had to hear. There was no doubt that this mage was the one who had desecrated Clairiss. There was no doubt that this mage had to die.

Sionis acted without warning and hit the former Thalmor with a paralysis spell. The altmer dropped to the ground in a crumpled mess. Sionis leaned over him and began to pull the high elf's face up. He wanted the madman to see the end of his life and be helpless against it. Something told him it had been the same for Clairiss. But before he could ready a killing spell, a sound off to his side caught the dark-eyed mage's attention.

The dremora lord rushed at him with its greatsword readied. More noise behind him told Sionis that there were more that he had not initially noticed and that his attack on their master had roused them from their waiting places in the shadows.

In the split second he had, Sionis cast Ironflesh upon himself. The next moment the dremora charging him swung his massive blade into his stomach. The force of the blow threw him several feet back. As he hit the ground with a loud grunt, the blonde mage found himself thanking Mephala again (much to his chagrin). Ironflesh did provide good protection, but it normally wouldn't have withstood an attack like the one he just had. But with the amplification provided from the Lady of Whisper's gift, it hadn't even rent his mage robes. Even so, his ribcage screamed as he drew breath and stood to face his attackers.

There were three dremora lords staring him down. All in Daedric armor and holding terrifying spiked greatswords. Somehow, he had to deal with them before the effects of his paralysis spell wore off of the high elf. Normally one had a matter of seconds, but with his daedric gifting how long did he have? A few minutes? He hoped to not have to find out. The altmer was obviously beyond the skill of a normal conjuror. Most could only bind one such creature to them. Masters could sometimes bind two. Three was unheard of.

As they were beings from Oblivion, it was likely they would be innately resistant to fire and shock spells so he would have to take them down using ice and frost magic. Definitely not his strong suit, but he figured that Mephala had made up that ground for him.

As the middle dremora advanced, the others began to spread out to flank him and close him in a trap. Seizing the advantage of their slowed movements, Sionis called to his magicka and flung an ice spike at the dremora directly in front of him. It was not completely taken by surprise and barely managed to duck out of the way. The giant shard of ice shot past it in and slammed into the wall on the far side of the tower causing a sliver of rock the size of his torso to splinter off and fall to the ground.

All three of the dremora paused their attack to take in the sheer power the human mage had just displayed. As the shard from the tower wall clattered to the ground breaking into several pieces, Sionis took advantage of his opponents' astonishment, and hurled another ice spike. This one caught the dremora in front of him in the chest as it turning back to face him. The dremora was lifted from the ground and carried several feet through the air. Its body dissolved into nothingness just after it crashed back to the floor.

The remaining two charged him suddenly and the Ironflesh spell again saved him. The mage backpedaled as he cast another ice spikes towards the one on his left. It just clipped the creature's shoulder, but was enough to send it spinning to the ground. But there was not enough time or room to counter the other coming in at his right.

The dremora brought its greatsword down into his shoulder. The protective spell still held and prevented him from losing his arm, but the force of the blow knocked him flat on his stomach. Despite the pain screaming from his shoulder, Sionis kept the presence of mind to move and managed to roll away. There was a loud clang as the dremora's blade struck the stone floor. The mage scrambled away lamely as his right arm was completely numb and useless and he gasped uncontrollably as the pain racked through him threatening to take his consciousness.

As he gained his feet, the dark-eyed mage blindly cast a third ice spike behind him hoping that by some blessing of the Divines he hit the dremora. There was no such blessing. The cone of ice missed by a wide margin and ended up spraying stone fragments from the wall to the floor below.

By now the other dremora was back up and moving to cut off his frantic retreat. As the two daedric creatures began to trap him again, Sionis desperately tried to think of some way out of the two dremora lords eventually hacking him into pieces. Just then, he heard a groan and looked over to see the high elf begin to stir. The paralysis spell was beginning to wear off. That's when he decided that the ice spikes just weren't going to get him out alive. It was time to cast a bigger spell. But it had to be timed just right.

Acting on sheer panic alone, Sionis spun around as he threw himself forward. When he had spun back around to his face his attackers, he cast an ice storm from his left hand back into his dremora's faces. The white orb was much larger than he'd ever seen it before. It was nearly the dremora's height in diameter and it caught both of them in its chilling sphere. It was so frigid, it nearly froze the fiends solid in its wake. The momentum of their charge couldn't be stopped and they broke into pieces before their forms swirled out of existence.

The air was driven from his lungs as Sionis landed with a thud, but there was no resting as he looked up to see the ex-Thalmor just gaining his feet, shaking off the last of the paralysis' spells effects. Adrenaline surged through him anew from his loathing of what the mad altmer had done to his sister. Screaming with a fury that ripped through his entire being, Sionis charged into Mala Aran Naga, tackling him to the ground. The high elf grunted from the landing, but didn't get a change to recover. Sionis began punching the elf as hard as he could with the hand that still worked.

"This is for Clairiss, you crazy bastard!" The blonde mage cried he slammed his fist again and again into the altmer's face.

With no response forthcoming, Sionis grabbed a handful of the high elf's hair and began pounding his head into the stone floor. Over and over again he beat the elf's head against the ground until a loud sharp crack finally stopped him. He looked and saw blood begin to rapidly pool out from around Mala Aran Naga's head. The vengeance he had sought for so long had been met. The desecrator of his beloved sister was dead.

And yet, there was no feeling of triumph or cry of victory or smile. He only felt weariness. It came crashing over him and he had never felt so heavy in all his life. In what should have been a liberating moment for both him and the spirit of his sister, the blonde man felt burdened nearly to his breaking point. Against his will, a few sobs broke forth from him. Strangely enough they weren't from the joy of avenging Clairiss. Instead they felt more like a panic threatening to take him.

Suddenly, a word blasted into his thoughts. The panic was gone, obliterated by the single word. A word spoken by the dead altmer mage. And with it, his focus shifted and his will was renewed. The elf had mentioned it. The elf had mentioned a "master".

It wasn't over. The altmer was certainly the one to have killed Clairiss and so blasphemed her soul, but he had been given the ability to do so from someone else. Once again there was yet one more step to climb; one more dark corner to look into.

At first this revelation was very tiring. Hadn't he been through enough? But then the exhaustion and anguish was swallowed by something else; a steel resolve. He was now determined to find everyone wrapped up in Naga's lunacy and punish them. Clairiss' killer may have been dead and her soul at peace, but there was at least one other that had created Mala Aran Naga and that one needed to be punished. And if there were any more beyond, they would be punished too. He would punish all of Tamriel if he had to.


	21. Chapter 21

Sionis rose to his feet ready to begin the search anew. And that search would begin with Naga's belongings. He walked to the nearby desk and began rifling through the various papers on it. Most were rather strange drawings of the dead Altmer's utopia of the undead, but there were also a few writings on the principles of conjuration – specifically of raising the dead and binding souls.

Sionis had never really studied the school of conjuration much but knew enough that the ideas conveyed in the writings were either revolutionary or heretical, or perhaps both. He gathered those writings up revealing a leather bound book underneath them. There was nothing on either cover, so he opened it. After flipping through a few pages, he realized it was Naga's journal. This he stuffed into a pocket as well before resuming his search.

But it was interrupted by quite the commotion coming from the floor below him. The noises grew louder and he realized that whatever it was there was making its way up to him. The sound of a guttural snarling joined the crashing as it got closer. Suddenly a horrific figure emerged from the stairwell and into the circular room. White squinted eyes appeared above a grotesquely circular shaped mouth that was sprouting multiple tusks. It was a sickly gray color with large spines protruding from its arms and back and down its tail. Long sharp talons grew off it hands and feet. It stopped only momentarily to let out a growl at Sionis before charging at him.

A second later, an arc of lightning crashed into the nightmarish looking creature throwing it to the ground. Upon landing, the monster disintegrated into nothingness.

"Deadra?" Sionis muttered to himself. He wasn't familiar with the specific one he'd just destroyed but knew all daedra were banished back to Oblivion once if they were killed in the mortal realm. He couldn't contemplate the significance of the creature's appearance for long as another and then another came running into the room.

A moment later, several more appeared. If he didn't act fast, he would be quickly overrun. Still more came pouring into the room. An impressive display of chain lightning that jumped through at least a dozen of the creatures bought him enough time to start a complicated casting. He had only cast the spell once before in order to prove his mastery of destruction at the Arcane University in the Imperial City. At the time he couldn't imagine ever having a need for it outside of that trial, but surrounded by a horde of terrifying daedra served as example enough for waved his hands through the intricate gestures the spell required before feeling his connection with his magicka surge through him. A moment later he released the spell just as the creatures were about to close in on him. A blast of fire exploded outward all around him engulfing the whole room. Normally daedra were naturally resistant to fire, but the sheer power and intensity of the thermal blast seared the daedric creatures out of existence. The detonation only lasted a moment, but the effect was stunningly violent and intense.

The walls were charred in places. The furniture that had been in the room were now smoking piles of ash. And it was now piercingly quiet. Sionis stood there awestruck for a moment. It had been impressive the first time he had cast it, but with Mephala's gift boosting the power of his spells, it had been frightening. In fact, he was somewhat surprised it hadn't brought the tower down on top of him.

As if on cue, he heard a loud groan following by a bunch of cracking. It was time to leave. Sionis raced down the steps, not stopping at any of the lower levels in the tower to see if there were any other items of interest and out of the hole in the wall that had been the door. As he reached the other side of the balcony, he heard a loud screeching behind him. He turned just in time to see the roof of the tallest tower collapse, bringing a couple of the large stones at the top down with it. It would seem that other than the roof, the structure would continue to hold.

Sionis took a minute to scan the courtyard of Mistwatch keep to see if any more of the hideous creatures were about. Spotting none, he entered the next tower on his way out of Mistwatch, hoping to never have to see the place again.

* * *

It had been a long time since Sionis had been on any kind of campus, but the College of Winterhold certainly fit the definition of one. The enormous castle featured a circular courtyard enveloped by training rooms, living quarters, eating halls and private chambers for the arch-mage himself. But it was the library he was most interested in. He hoped that it would alleviate his irritation at the surly Altmer woman that guarded the entrance. She had insisted that he prove himself a capable mage despite him wearing his official mage robes – also something he hadn't done in a long time as he preferred thicker warmer robes in the cold weather of Skyrim.

Her test had been easy enough, however, and she let him pass immediately afterwards. Still, it irked him that she had put him through it. He received help from a passing student who directed him to the stairway that led to the library, which he learned was called The Arcanaeum. Sionis pushed open the door and smiled.

The library was a large round room lined with shelves packed full of books. Additional book shelves ran through the space at either side of lowered dais in the middle of the room and reading tables with numerous chairs were placed all over so one could do their reading wherever they wished. He came around one set of book shelves to see a large, rather old orc sitting at a desk at the far side of the room talking quite sharply at another mage. It seemed an authoritative tongue-lashing about the proper care of the books.

The dark-eyed mage waited patiently for him to finish his lecture directed at the student before walking up to the Arcanaeum's Orsimer caretaker. The orc didn't seem to notice him as he had now turned his attention to a book and was reading quite intensely.

"Excuse m …"

"You are now in the Arcanaeum of which I am in charge." The elderly Orsimer interrupted gruffly, looking rather perturbed to be taken away from his reading yet again. "It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum and I'll have you torn apart by angry atronachs. Now, do you require assistance?"

In his opinion, Sionis had always found librarians a bit eccentric and possessive of their collections, but this one took it to a new level.

"I … yes," he answered a bit taken off guard. No wonder the student acted like a rabbit. "I was hoping to have a look at some books to help me illuminate a personal mystery."

"You're not a student of the college." The orc stated after looking over his official robes.

"No, I'm not," Sionis affirmed, "but I am member of the Arcane University of Cyrodiil if that helps alleviate any concerns you may have about my looking into your collection."

"I don't care about anything outside The Arcanaeum. Just tell me what books you need." The librarian snapped.

"I'm not sure actually." The blonde man replied, prompting an exasperated huff from the orc. "I'm going off a few clues and hoped to find an answer in the library."

"The  _ARCANAEUM_ ," the orc replied stressing the name of the place to demonstrate his displeasure at it being called a library, "has books on just about every subject. Now, once again, what can I help you find."

"My apologies," Sionis offered. "I am trying to find information about a prince; specifically one that has overthrown at least one other power."

"That doesn't really narrow our search down any. The history of Tamriel is full of nobles and their petty power struggles." The orc returned.

"Right. The one I'm looking for would still be alive." Sionis clarified. "Or at least very recently deceased."

"Anything else?" The curt librarian asked.

"Actually yes," the visiting mage cried out after a moment of thought. "He would've been a mage. Most likely a very powerful one. Or one that employed a very powerful mage."

"There were certainly a number of nobles that fought and perished in the Great War. I could certainly give you some records from that time. I haven't heard of any magicka using princes in recent history though." The Orsimer replied.

"I think that would be too long ago. Anything more recent than that?" Sionis asked hopefully.

"Nope." The orc answered shortly.

"There must be something." Sionis pleaded.

"Nothing. No notable figures fit all those characteristics since the Great War. Now, is there anything else?"

Sionis' shoulders slumped. "Let me see the records from the Great War, I guess." He finally said. "At least it's something."

"Wait here." The orc commanded.

A few moments later, he returned with three volumes. "I don't want to see you treating any of these books poorly. Are we clear?"

"Yes, I will be very careful." Sionis replied, hoping to appease any lingering suspicions from the uptight librarian.

Seeing that no reply was going to be offered, the blonde mage moved off to an out of the way table in the room and opened the first tome.

* * *

Frustrated and defeated yet again, Sionis closed yet another book. He had read more books in the past few days then he had in the past few months. He had graciously been allowed to use a spare room in the students living quarters due to his ties to the mage's guild of Cyrodiil and had spent all of his time in the College's library. The books on the Great War yielded nothing and he had expanded his search to include any noble that fit the description of a magic-using usurper.

One by one, every figure he read about was eliminated. Most commonly the accounts didn't portray any of them as being powerful enough to do what Mala Aran Naga had done, much less bestow it on anyone else. Arguably, Potema, the Wolf Queen, was the most powerful of the necromancers he had read about, but he eventually ruled her out since the crazy high elf had always referred to his master in a masculine manner. And another, Mannimarco, didn't fit the profile of wanting a "perfect world"; instead it seemed he was more bent on simply destroying it. And neither of them seemed intent on sharing or bestowing their power on another.

He rose from his table once again to return another book to Urag gro-Shub. He had been in the Arcanaeum so much and had treated the books so respectfully that he had earned the trust of the surly orc and had eventually divulged more information to Urag about his conundrum. He had told of the mad high elf mage and the things he had said, hoping that the additional information would aid in the search, but so far it hadn't.

"Still nothing on your search?" The Orsimer questioned.

"No, nothing, Urag." Sionis answered. "Anything else you can think of."

"I have been thinking about what you told me of the lunatic and the things he said," Urag gro-Shub answered. "And a thought occurred to me just a moment ago. What if the prince you're looking for isn't a mortal one?"

"What do you mean?" Sionis asked.

"Well, the kind of power you're talking about is really unheard of." The orc began. "To my knowledge, not even the Psijic Order wields power like that. Certainly not with the ability to bestow it on another. I racked my brain to think of any man that ever had that kind of power and I couldn't think of a single one. And then the thought hit me. Perhaps it's because no man or woman ever has had power like that."

"Okay, so what are you thinking then?" the visiting mage asked. "This ex-Thalmor mage made a deal with a daedra?" He said the last part with a chuckle.

"Actually, yeah." The orc answered. "It's the only thing to me that makes sense of everything you told me."

It was then that the realization hit him. The sheer magical power needed for what Naga had done was almost beyond comprehension. Daedric Lords were often referred to as Princes as well. And Mephala – whom he had not told Urag gro-Shub about – had known about his plight. All of the sudden, daedric involvement made a lot of sense. The only question now was which Daedric Prince was involved.

"Actually, Urag, that makes sense!" Sionis exclaimed, excited to have a new idea to persue.

"Of course it does." The orc snapped. "But which Prince was it that gave your elf the ability to permanently raise the dead."

"Mala Aran Naga called him The Overthrower." Sionis answered. "That should narrow the list down a little."

"Actually it narrows down your list quite a bit." Urag gro-Shub replied. "There are only two, I would think, that fit that description – Mehrunes Dagon and Beothiah."

"What descriptions do you have of them?"

"I pulled a volume just before you came up thinking that my hunch was correct." The orc explained setting down a black leather bound book with silver engraving along the edges and inlaid as the title. Sionis picked it up and read the title. The Book of Daedra.

He didn't bother to leave Urag's desk this time. Instead he opened it right there to find the passages he was looking for.

_Mehrunes Dagon, whose sphere is Destruction, Change, Revolution, Energy, and Ambition, rules over the plane of Oblivion known as the Deadlands, a barren and inhospitable wasteland. Dagon is perhaps the most ambitious of the Daedric Lords as evidenced by his several attempts to invade Nirn; most recently causing the Oblivion Crisis in 3E 433. The 20th of Sun's Dusk – also known as the Warrior's Festival – is said to be his day of summoning. Dremora, Clannfear, and Scamps are known servants of Mehrunes Dagon. Natural disasters, such as fires, floods, or earthquakes are generally associated with the Prince of Destruction. Dagon is an especially important figure in the Dunmer culture where is he considered to be one of the Four Corners of the House of Troubles._  


_Boethiah rules over deceit, conspiracy, secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and unlawful overthrow of authority. Also known as the Prince of Plots, Deceiver of Nations, Queen of Shadows, and Goddess of Destruction, He-Who-Destroys, and She-Who-Erases. Boethiah rules the plane of Oblivion known as Attribution's Share said to consist of garden mazes and twisted towers. Boethiah greatly enjoys battle and conflict and his followers often stage tournaments to the death in order to win favor. The Prince of Plots is also a significant figure in Dunmer culture being considered responsible – along with Azura and Mephala – for the existence of the Dunmer as a distinct race. The 2nd of Sun's Dusk is known Boethiah's day of summoning._  


"Hmmm." Sionis mused as he closed the book. "Still sounds like it could be either of them, though Dagon doesn't seem as creative as Boethiah."

"Anything that could help us distinguish which one empowered your looney?" The Orsimer asked.

"I'm not sure." The dark-eyed mage replied thoughtfully. "They both seem to be important in Dunmer culture, both seem to enjoy causing pain or strife among mortals, and both have summoning days in Sun's Dusk."

"Out of curiosity, what days?" Urag asked.

"Let's see," Sionis replied re-opening the book to re-check the information. "Mehrunes Dagon is summoned on the 20th. A day called …

"Warrior's Festival." The orc finished. "And Boethiah? What's her day of summoning."

The blonde man turned the page. "It didn't have a specific name for the day. It was … the 2nd. The 2nd of Sun's Dusk."

"That's Gauntlet's Day." The librarian stated.

And that's when it all clicked together for Sionis. The words of Mala Aran Naga ran through his mind like a mammoth stampede. " _The only thing my master asked in return was that I help him through the gauntlet ..._ "

"It was Boethiah." Sionis breathed.

"What was that?"

"It was Boethiah. Urag, it was Boethiah that did this."

"So your mystery is solved then. Hey! Stop clutching my book so tightly or you'll break the spine. Then I'll break you!"

Sionis snapped his attention back to the librarian and gently set the book back on the table. "Sorry, Urag. Thank you so much for your help, but I must go. I have an important chore to see to now."

"It's nearly nightfall, surely you can stay one more night and attend to whatever you need to in the morning." The orc offered.

"No, I must go now. It cannot wait." Sionis turned and fled the room only adding once he was beyond earshot. "Boethiah must pay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed Sable's tale so far. Sorry for the rather short chapter. I just felt this was the proper break point. Next chapter we get to see the reunion between Sionis and Sable and what fun that will be, right?


	22. Chapter 22

Sweat flew in all directions as Sable spun around following up with a strike from one of her daggers. It never hit home as it clanged loudly against the blade of her opponent. He pushed her arm out wide and immediately reversed his movement bringing his sword back in to stab her through the stomach. She quickly brought her other dagger down in a quick arc to deflect the blade away.

The white-haired assassin backed up a step. The two circled a bit taking measure of each other. Without warning, her assailant rushed her feigning a high strike before dropping low at the last moment, slashing at her legs. Sable leapt over the attack, tucking into a roll as she landed behind him. An instant later, she gained her feet and wheeled around, the points of both daggers leading the way, looking for the chest of her attacker. What they found was a wooden shield with a dull thud.

Before she could pull away, the man used the shield to bull her off balance. The sword followed right behind, coming straight down to impale her. A backwards somersault saved her from the blade and put a short distance between them. Once again, they faced each other. They had been fighting a long time and she was beginning to tire. She needed a way to end it quickly. Her mind whirled trying to think of something. And then she had to suppress a smile as an idea came to mind.

She came forward suddenly, but missed a step and stumbled. Just like with Dufont, her opponent went for it, bringing the sword down in a sweeping arc to slice open her back. Sable turned the stumble into a roll and popped up right next to her assailant ready to push her blade into his ribs to the hilt.

To her surprise, her skilled attacker countered by twisting away from her strike. He followed that by bashing his shield into her chest. There wasn't much force in it as he was no longer at a good angle for the bash, but it was just enough to over balance her and that was all he needed. He spun in low circle, then kicked into the backs of her knees. The maneuver swept her legs out from under her and she fell to the ground. He was on top of her instantly his sword at her throat.

"My comlimentss ssisster," the Argonian congratulated. "You fought sso very well, but it lookss like I win again."

"Not quite Veezara." Sable replied smugly and she tapped the steel dagger in her right hand against his ribs.

There was a brief look of bewilderment in her brother's eyes before he smiled. "A draw, then." He replied astonished. "No member of the Family hass ever accomplished ssuch a feat againsst me before. Very impressive."

Veezara stood and offered a hand to help her up, which she gladly accepted with the smile of a fox in a hen house.

"Indeed," came a silken voice behind them. They turned to see Astrid in the archway of the training area. "Still the overachiever." She smiled demurely at Sable. "May I have a word, Sable? We have learned of the Black Sacrament being performed and I think you should be the one to answer its call."

Sable followed her mistress out of the cave that served as the training room and back to cave near the front of the Sanctuary where she looked over all the contracts and conducted the Family's business in general.

When they got there, Astrid paused as if considering what words she wanted to say before speaking. After a moment, she finally spoke.

"It would seem that your mage friend accomplished what was thought to be impossible." She started. The realization of what her mistress said was like a punch to the gut and Sable suddenly felt shaky and fought to keep her knees from buckling.

"Sionis found his sister's killer," the younger assassin breathed.

"That would be my guess." Astrid answered. "He has performed the Black Sacrament requesting our services."

Sable's eyes went wide for just a moment. "And you want me to take the contract?"

"Normally I wouldn't allow a family member to take a contract from a person they have a history with, but in this case, I think it would be best if you went ahead and fulfilled it. Considering the manner in which we all parted, I feel it would be best that he see someone he is familiar with and hopefully still friendly towards."

"I see." The white-haired assassin replied, finally coming to terms with what she was hearing. He had done it. Sionis had actually found the person responsible for the desecration of Clairiss. It was a task she had figured would have been impossible. It was how she had justified leaving him with her refusal to help. The time and resources needed for that kind of search was dizzying to think about and he had actually done it. Now she wondered if she had actually betrayed him. Should she have stayed with him? Would the Family have disowned if she had? Could she have handled that? She pushed these questions aside, not wanting think about them further; they were too disconcerting.

"When should I leave?" She asked her mistress, using her profession as walls against the disturbing intrusions.

"As soon as you are ready." Astrid answered. "He is currently staying at an inn in Whiterun."

"I shall leave as soon as I have bathed and gathered my things." Sable stated before turning to leave.

"Do remember something for me, sister." Astrid called after her and once Sable turned back to face her, continued. "This is just like any other job. Meet up with your former associate, fulfill his contract, and collect your payment. Nothing more, and nothing less."

"Of course, mistress." Sable turned on her heel and was gone.

* * *

He looked very different than she remembered. His light stubble had grown into a full blonde beard and he looked tired. His countenance seemed darker somehow and Sable couldn't help but wonder about what he had been through. He obviously hadn't made it through his quest unscathed and she pushed away the thought that perhaps she was partly responsible for his current condition. She still agreed with Astrid that his crusade to find a nameless unknown mage had seemed impossible. She was still astonished that he had succeeded, assuming his request for an assassination was meant for his sister's killer. He hadn't noticed her yet. He just sat there staring at his table as if he were trying to set it ablaze with just his eyes. The assassin wondered briefly just then if mages could actually do that.

With a sigh, she looked down and straightened her dress. It was a rather simple dress made of a sturdy material dyed blue with a brown leather torso. It was a very common style of dress, but that was the point. She wished to attract as little attention as possible. After re-shouldering her pack containing her black and sanguine leather armor, her daggers, some coins, and few other oddities, the curvy assassin walked across the room to start a conversation she was suddenly rather hesitant to have. She knew that he viewed her leaving him a betrayal. It was the fact that she cared about his view of her that she found disconcerting. It was foolish and weak and something she would have quash.

It was this last thought that dictated her greeting to her mage acquaintance. "Hello, Sionis." Sable said simply and coldly.

He looked up at her. "Of course they would send you." It seemed he was trying to keep no small amount of contempt from his voice. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that your organization would twist the handle."

"Twist the handle?" Sable asked. "And just what does that mean?"

"Forget it," he grumbled. "Sit down."

She took a seat in a chair across from him, setting her knapsack down across her feet. She finally looked back at him. His eyes had completely lost the fire they displayed earlier when he had first seen her. Now they just looked tired and, perhaps, listless. There was a moment of silence between them there in the common room of the Bannered Mare. It almost seemed that the busy, noisy world of the inn around them had been muted out. Sionis closed his eyes for a long moment. Just as it seemed that the awkwardness was beginning to escalate to the point of overwhelming her, he finally opened his eyes and spoke.

"I must say," he began, his eyes regaining a bit of their luster, "I never expected to see you wearing that."

Sable was quite taken aback. She hadn't expected a remark like that and she looked down at her dress. True it wasn't nearly as gorgeous as the ones she had back at the Sanctuary, but it was pretty enough for the purpose it was serving she thought.

"I … I … this is a nice …." Her broken response was interrupted by his chuckling at her.

"I meant a dress in general." He explained. "The last time I saw you, you were involved in Family business. I guess some part of me expected you to always be wearing that leather armor of yours."

"I … I can't be wearing my armor all the time. At times I need to blend …"

"I understand the point." Her dark-eyed companion interrupted again. "I agree we shouldn't be trying to attract attention." After a brief pause he added, "But all the same, you look nice."

Now she was really blown away. Not only had their parting not been on good terms, but no one had ever given her a compliment like that one. As long as she could remember, the attention she'd gotten was aimed at getting just one thing from her. Never had it been a genuine compliment like that and now she didn't know how to respond.

"I'm sorry about earlier." The mage finally said. "I didn't really expect you to show up and I guess I still haven't sorted through how I …" he trailed off and there was another moment of silence before he re-grouped his thoughts. "I mean, I guess I expected your leader…" he left the word hanging to prompt his companion to help him remember her name.

"Astrid." Sable complied. "Yes, normally she would be the one to establish the contract, but she thought it best if I handled yours."

"Did she think it would be good to send you to make up for your betrayal?" His tone held an accusatory edge to it.

"Betrayal?" Sable snapped. "How did I betray you?"

"You left me!" He shouted back before quieting himself again. "You left when I could've used you the most. You knew what Clairiss meant to me and when I needed my vengeance, you went scurrying back to your back-stabbing family."

"Did you really want me there?" the assassin fired back. "Or was it the skills and resources of the Dark Brotherhood you wanted?"

"Is it really that terrible that I wanted help from someone I thought was a friend?" Sionis asked.

And there they were again. Those disturbing thoughts and feelings she just couldn't quite seem to shake about this man. This was her chance the end them – to kill them – once and for all.

"Friends?" She answered coldly. "It was just an arrangement. We both had a common enemy. Why not work to together to take that enemy down? That's all it was." Her eyes stung as she said it, but she managed to say it without the slightest waver in her voice. A stunned look came over his face and for a moment he said nothing. She was victorious.

"Don't do that, Sable." He said authoritatively. "If that's all I was to you, then why did you come back for me? Why not just let me rot in that cell?"

And just like the Empire during the Great War, her walls were crushed; her defenses shattered. Why had she gone back for him? She remembered refusing to leave until Astrid and the others had agreed to find him and later his sister. Damn him. Damn him to Oblivion for that realization. Her anger surged up within her and she wondered if she would expelled from the Dark Brotherhood if she murdered him after his contract was fulfilled. It didn't last long. It died as soon as she looked back into his eyes and saw real pain there. Guilt and shame swallowed her anger whole.

"I'm … I'm sorry Sionis." She stated quietly. Why did she care that she had hurt him? What in Oblivion was wrong with her? "I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry about what happened to your sister."

"Perhaps this contract will help you atone for her death." Sionis stated.

With that statement, her anger was resurrected. "I caused her death?" Sable hissed at him. "How do you figure that?"

"I never would have tried to assault the operation without your help." He answered sharply. "If you hadn't come along, she'd still be alive."

"What!?" The pale-eyed assassin gasped. "How do you know that? Gods, Sionis did it ever occur to you that she might have already been dead? Did it occur to you that they might have killed her long ago and just lied to you about her to keep their leverage over you?"

The mage opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. A moment later all he could manage was a single utterance. "Oh."

"Besides, even if that were not the case, you could've just killed me and your life would have gone on as normal." She pressed. "You could have stayed in the happy ignorance that she was alive and just ended me. But you didn't. Why?" Again she was met with silence. "Admit it, maybe the thought that you were being lied to – that they had already killed Clairiss – had been disturbing you for awhile."

His eyes welled up with tears he was furiously trying to keep back.

"Either way, Sionis, I had nothing to do with her death. You made the decision. If anyone is to blame it's…"

"Stop!" he cried out, not wanting to hear her finish. "Can we talk more in private?" He choked out through sobs that were stronger than his willpower. "Let's go to my room."

He didn't even wait for her to respond. He got up from the table and fled to the stairs that led to the inn's lodging. Sable used the opportunity to get her breathing back under control before grabbing her pack and following him.

Once she reached his room, it seemed that Sionis had regained his composure as well. He looked up to her, his eyes pleading for both forgiveness and comfort though he didn't actually say anything. She set her stuff down just inside the door to his room and grabbed a chair, bringing it near him and sitting down herself.

At that moment, he burst. "You're right. It's my fault she's dead." The sobs were taking him over again. "She was killed and so blasphemed because of me. Even if our attack didn't cause the retaliation, it would have happened at some point anyway. And I was the one that put her there."

"Didn't you say they kidnapped her?" Sable offered. "How was that your fault?"

"If I had refused to do the job for my friend," he answered solemnly, "they would have just killed him and she would still be alive and this whole thing would have never been a part of her life."

Sable wasn't sure if she could argue that one. But she knew that Clairiss' death hadn't been his fault. He may have put her in an awful situation, but he needed to hear what she didn't get to finish saying.

"You should've let me finish out there, Sionis." She stated simply and evenly.

"I didn't need to." He replied. "You're right. It was my fault."

"That's not what I was going to say." She chided, finally getting his full attention.

"What do you mean? Who's at fault, then?"

"They are."

"What!?" Sionis straightened up with a look of incredulity.

"Do you force them to drag a blade across her throat?" Sable asked pointedly.

"No." He answered cautiously.

"Did you, yourself, pour poison down her throat?"

"No."

"Did you personally gut her?"

"No."

"Bash her skull in?"

"Please stop." He finally cried out.

"The point is, they killed her. Not you. They made the decision to end her life. They, not you." She pointed a finger at him and the door alternately to further make her point.

"You really think that?" The mage asked hopefully.

"That's how I see it." She stated calmly and definitively to assure him. "And I'm an assassin. I kill people for a living."

"Thank you, Sable." He said weakly. "I appreciate it. I don't know if that helps me feel any better, but I'm grateful."

Then, he leaned in and kissed her. Her eyes went wide and surprise and anger flooded through her. Her elbow crashing into the side of his head knocked him out cold, and ended that nonsense.

* * *

Sionis groaned as he opened his eyes. He had a nasty headache and wasn't sure what had happened. One moment he had been talking with Sable and now the throbbing in the left side of his head was making him feel a bit queasy as he fought to keep his vision clear. What had happened? How did he end up like this? The last thing he remembered was …

His eyes went wide as it hit him. He had kissed her. And know he was just waking up. He groaned again.

"Next time you try something like that, I'll put you out for a lot longer than few minutes." Sable's voice carried a tone of warning.

"Most people wouldn't strike a friend for kissing them, you know." He retorted, still sounding a bit woozy.

"I'm not most people." She stated in a matter of fact tone.

"I see that now." The mage replied. "But it was just an innocent little kiss."

"There's no such thing." She returned.

He opened his mouth to argue further, but nothing came out. How would he even begin to explain? Before he could find a way, the curvy assassin changed the subject.

"Would you like to discuss the contract now?" She asked, a bit of exasperation creeping into her voice.

"Yes, but there are two conditions I'd like you to agree to before I give you the specifics of the contract." Sionis said a bit of nervousness in his voice.

"Okay, I'm listening." Sable conceded.

"First, I'd like you to agree to take the contract. Even before you hear what it is." There was even more apprehension in his voice as if he figured this was his biggest hurdle to overcome.

"Sionis," Sable began in an almost condescending tone, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't intend to take the contract. It's how I make my living. I can't exactly be picky or choosy about those I kill. Besides," she added after a brief pause, "I suspect I'm going enjoy this kill greatly."

"Okay, then. The second request I have is that I join you." Sionis said.

"No!" She said forcefully. "That's not how it's done, Sionis. Otherwise why not just kill the bastard yourself?"

"I just want to see it through to the end." He replied emphatically. "Please, Sable. Give me that much."

Sable thought for a moment. She didn't know of any explicit rules against this, but she knew that it wasn't how things were supposed to be done. In the end, she decided that she did owe it to Sionis to allow him his request. Besides, what could it possible hurt for him to witness her murder the person responsible for turning his beloved sister into an abomination?

"Fine," she finally said, "let's hear the details of the contract. I assume you found the mage that turned Clairiss into a zombie?"

He winced slightly at her crude summation, but did reply. "Yes, I found him … and I killed him."

"What?" Sable blurted out. "What do you mean? If you killed him, then what do you need me for?"

"He was a former Thalmor mage that called himself Mala Aran Naga. The kind of power he wielded was beyond what any mortal could attain. Not without help anyway." Sionis replied. "So after I killed him, I tracked down the person he got his power from and that is what I need help with. I need you to kill the one that provided Naga his ability to do what he did."

"So you performed the Black Sacrament to get at this other person? The one that gave the elf mage his power?" She asked still trying to get over the astonishment.

"That is correct."

"How did you find this mage in the first place?"

The dark-eyed mage looked away from her at that question. "You'd probably rather not know and I'd rather not talk about it."

"I understand." Sable offered before returning to the task at hand. "So then, who do want me to kill?"

"Boethiah. I want Boethiah to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. Sionis just put a hit on a Daedric Prince. How in all Oblivion is Sable going to pull this one off?  
> Thanks to everyone that has read, commented, bookmarked and most importantly enjoyed Sable's story so far.  
> \- E. K.


	23. Chapter 23

"What!?" Sable nearly shouted. "A Daedric Prince! You want me to kill a Daedric Prince! Sionis, you better tell me you're kidding and give me the real target or you're going to take another nap."

"It's not a joke, Sable." The mage replied a bit of anger seeping into his voice. "It was Boethiah that gave that mad wizard his power and I want his head."

"Is it even possible? To kill a Daedric Lord?" She asked

Sionis shrugged. "I've never heard of it happening before."

"Then why would I be able to?" Sable asked frantically.

"Because I've never seen anyone deal death the way you do."

Any retort she had disappeared and she felt her face flush. It was the most amazing compliment she'd ever been paid.

"That morning at Cragslane Cavern," he continued, "I'd never seen anything like it. It was like you were just dancing through them. It was like you'd elevated killing people to an art. It literally took my breath away."

Sable turned away from the darling mage as she blushed furiously. She wiped the nearly painful smile from her face and regained her composure before facing the man once more.

"If I'm so good, why were you hoping to meet with Astrid?" She asked. "Assuming that she was that much better than me?"

"No," Sionis replied calmly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "I honestly wanted to request that you take my contract."

"Then why the hostility earlier, if I was the one you wanted to handle the contract?"

"I apologize," he said his a shake of his head. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon and I guess I wasn't prepared for it."

"Fine." She replied with a curt nod. "But I don't think the Dark Brotherhood should take the contract. I don't think a Daedric Prince can be killed. And even if they could, it would be suicide to try. I'm sorry."

"The assassin's guild is going to pass up the chance at assassinating such a legendary mark?" The mage asked gaining a bit of an edge back in his voice. "Besides you promised to take the contract earlier. I know I'm not exactly appealing to an honorable profession, but are you going to spur me again?"

The desperate barb he threw out might have stung if she'd even heard it. One word had caught Sable's attention and there had been nothing else to hear after that. Legendary. It was true. To kill a Daedric Lord – a god – would be the stuff of legend. She wouldn't just be feared throughout Skyrim but all of Tamriel as well. And what better way to prove her power over death it's itself? Her lips twisted in a delightedly cruel smile. Let Arkay try and come for her. She was a god-killer.

"Alright, you win, Sionis," she purred. "I will take the contract and murder Boethiah for the misery she caused you." She turned and went to her pack, opened it, and began looking through it. "The Legend of the White Deathbell will be made over the corpse of a Daedric Prince, but first," she whirled back around to reveal one of her elven daggers in her hand, "that awful, shaggy beard as got to go if you're coming with me."

Her smile grew even wider as she advanced on the dark-eyed mage.

* * *

Less than a half hour later, Sionis rubbed his now smooth jawline and chin. Even though he had just been through the quickest and most frightening shave of his life, he had to admit, it was probably the best he'd ever had and he was impressed. Perhaps quite disturbed, but definitely impressed. Sable busied herself with wiping her elven blade clean and re-stowing it in her knapsack.

"So what was that all about?" He asked after she had finished and turned back to him.

"A beard doesn't suit you at all." She explained cheerfully. "You look a lot younger now."

"That's it?" the mage asked incredulously.

"Yep." She answered.

Sionis just stared at her for a moment without saying anything further. He felt that there had to be more to it than petty vanity, but decided not to press it and let it drop.

"What's our first move, then?"

"That's what I was going to ask you." Sable replied. "Where can I find Boethiah?"

"I don't know." The mage answered.

"You don't know?" Sable cried out. "How am I supposed to assassinate her if I don't know where she is?"

"I'm sorry, Sable." Sionis conceded. "But he could be in Oblivion for all I know. I didn't say this would be an easy contract. But…"

"Easy? Try nearly impossible!" She exclaimed incredulously. "We're getting to a point where it's not a question of whether I will take the contract but rather whether I can."

"I believe I was told something similar to that the last time we talked." Sionis fired back, a hint of anger infiltrating his voice. Without even thinking about it he grabbed Mala Aran Naga's journal from the pocket of his robe and shook it at her. "I found this mage and …" He trailed off as he realized what was in his hand. It was the journal.

"What's that?" Sable asked.

"It's his journal." He replied with astonishment, wondering how he'd forgotten all about it. "It's the mage's journal."

"Okay. I don't see how that makes anything easier." She said pinching the bridge of her nose.

"There are probably some clues in here." The mage replied with excitement. "We should read it."

" _You_  should read it." Sable corrected. "Let me know if you find anything useful." She turned to go get her knapsack. "I'm going to go see about getting a room of my own."

"You can stay with me," Sionis offered. "Don't have to pay for a room that way."

Her answer was only an intense questioning stare.

"You can have the bed." He blurted. "I'll sleep on the floor or in a chair."

She cracked a sly smile at his squirming. "I think I'd be safer in a room of my own." And with that jab, she grabbed her pack and left the room.

Sionis sat in puzzlement for a moment before realizing to what she was referring. He let out a long sigh before leaning back and cracking open Naga's journal. Apparently it was going to be awhile before he would be allowed to live that one down.

* * *

The next morning Sionis woke to the sound of knocking at his door. He grabbed the journal, which he found lying open against his chest, and closed it. Seeing that he was fully dressed (wearing the same robes he had fell asleep in), he rose and opened the door to find Sable stand there wearing the same sturdy blue dress from yesterday.

"Find anything useful in the journal?" She asked as she glided into the mage's room.

"Not much," he mumbled sleepily. He had stayed up late studying the journal, which he now flipped open to read a brief passage. "He did mention something about 'his end being where it all began' and more about 'helping my master through the gauntlet'. That's about it."

"And do you know what any of it means?" Sable asked growing a bit impatient by this contract to do the impossible.

"I'm pretty sure I know what the part about the gauntlet means." Sionis replied. "Boethiah can be summoned to the mortal plane on the 2nd of Sun's Dusk. It known as Gauntless or the Gauntlet Holiday." He paused for a moment but continued once he saw that she was not going to contribute anything. "Based on that, I'm pretty sure that Boethiah is not even on Nirn right now. I think Naga meant to summon him."

"Okay, well that gives us some time, then." Sable quipped. "It's soon to be Frostfall. We should have plenty of time to set up for Boethiah's arrival. Maybe we could prepare some surprises for her."

"There's the problem." Sionis countered sounding somewhat crestfallen. "Based on what I know of conjuration – and I'm not an expert – a Daedric Lord can only be summoned in a specific place. And I have no idea where that is."

"Okay, so we have just over a month to find out where that bitch will be."

"I think the end at the beginning bit is the clue to find that out," the mage started with a lot of doubt in his voice. "But I'm not sure where exactly that would be. Riften where we met? Or perhaps Cragslane? Or maybe even in Windhelm where I was 'recruited'? I just don't see how there is anything in any of those places that I missed."

"That doesn't make any sense." Sable stated flatly.

"I know, it would seem that he wouldn't have known about …"

"No," Sable interrupted, "it wouldn't make sense that his journal would be talking about either of us. Why would he care?" She asked emphatically to make her point. "He is talking about  _his_ end and  _his_  beginning." After a pause in which her wizard companion said nothing. "We need to find out where he struck his deal with the Prince of Plots."

Sionis dry-washed his face with his hands. "Gods, I'm tired." He finally said. "You're right, of course. But … how?"

"That is the question." Sable mused, pacing back and forth for a moment and then muttering under her breath. "How do we find out …" And then she stopped and her eyes went wide as it hit her. "You said that this mage was a Thalmor?"

"He was wearing Thalmor robes." Sionis confirmed. "And in his mental state, I don't think it was a ruse. I would assume he was Thalmor when he enacted whatever pact with Boethiah."

"Do the Thalmor keep records of their members?" She asked the excitement in her voice growing.

"As far as I know, they do." The dark-eyed mage answered. "That is assuming he was part of the contingent in Skyrim."

"Is there any place where those records would be kept?" Her line of questions continued.

"The Thalmor Embassy, I would guess. Why?" But then he understand what his assassin friend was saying. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you saying that you want to …"

"We need to …"

"… break into the Thalmor Embassy." They finished together, though he didn't have the same look of glee on his face that she did.

* * *

Sionis shivered as he sat just inside the tree line. Snow fell gently around him and he pulled his cloak even tighter over his robes.

"Your teeth are chattering again." Sable remarked quite annoyed by the sound.

"It's cold way up here." Sionis hissed through clenched teeth. He couldn't see how she wasn't shivering as well. She only had a thick cloak over her familiar black and sanguine leather armor.

"It's no colder today than it has been the last week we've been here scouting out the Embassy." She retorted.

"My teeth aren't chattering any less today than any previous either." The mage grumbled.

"My point exactly." Sable returned. "I would think you would've gotten used to it by now."

Sionis shot her the darkest look he could manage in answer. It went completely ignored.

"That building there," she pointed at the smallest building that comprised the Thalmor Embassy, "has got to be a barracks for the soldiers garrisoned here. We won't finding any personnel documents in there."

Sionis looked over the compound. It consisted of three buildings (including the barracks Sable had just pointed out) encompassed by a stone wall topped with spiked metal fencing. The only way in or out was through a gate in the southern wall with the barracks sitting just inside and to the left. What appeared to be the main building sat in the middle, bifurcating the embassy grounds. Beyond that, tucked into the top corner of the pentagon shaped compound was the third building. The entire Embassy sat on a mountain northwest of Solitude.

"So w-w-when are w-we g-g-going in?" He asked through teeth that were chattering yet again.

"Tonight." Sable answered with a smile.

"Thank the D-D-Divines." Sionis muttered.

"Your teeth are chattering again. I'm not going to let you come with me if you can't get that under control."

He stared daggers at her back as she turned and walked away.

"Let's head back to camp." She said oblivious to the murderous look she was getting. "We should try to get some rest before we break in."

Finally, the dark-eyed mage got up and followed after her. It sounded as if it was going to be a long night.

* * *

"When I thought of infiltrating the Thalmor Embassy, this is not what I had in mind." Sionis spat as the pair slowly and carefully made their way along the cliff face that ran along the western end of the Embassy grounds.

"How else are we going to approach without being seen immediately?" Sable asked in exasperation. "We can't just go waltzing through the front gate and they patrol the forest side of the place regularly. But," she added after a pause, "They don't pay the same attention to this side."

"There's good reason for that." The mage huffed. "Why would anyone try to assault the Embassy by climbing an Oblivion cursed mountain!?"

"Exactly." The blue-silver eyed assassin gleefully confirmed.

"Not what I meant." Sionis grumbled under his breath.

"We should be about there." Sable whispered down a moment later. "Let's go up and see what we can find out."

The two fell into silence as they slowly, carefully made their way up the mountainside. Thankfully the cliff face had not been terribly difficult and they had gone just far enough to be out of sight. A few moments later and with much grunting the pair crested the cliffs and were in view of the Embassy wall just a short distance away.

"That's new." Sionis huffed pointing to the bow slung across her back.

"Yes it is." The assassin confirmed as she scanned the wall looking for any guards. "Decided it would be just one more advantage I could have over my enemies. I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I've been practicing. I hope I won't need to rely on it much."

Sionis was just about the reply with a jab when she hushed him.

"Don't move!" She commanded in a whisper.

He looked up to see a Thalmor agent come into view along the wall, walking leisurely towards them. Sable prompted with her hands and they quickly skittered back closer to the cliff they had just climbed up, hoping they hadn't been seen. She took her bow from her back and quickly set an arrow.

She pulled the bow back and tracked him as he walked.

"Stop walking you piece of scamp dung." She said quietly through clenched teeth. "Just stop walking, so I can ..."

But the high elf kept on his route oblivious to the two would be intruders. Still Sable waited hoping, willing him to stop in order to take the shot. Her arms were starting to burn from the strain of holding the bow string taut.

"Sithis, please, just make him stop walking." The tired assassin pleaded.

"Hello there!" She heard Sionis shout next her. "I have a couple of Talos worshippers here!"

The elf stopped and whirled around. His gaze quickly snapped onto the mage standing there waving his arms. Sable, despite her surprise and anger, seized the opportunity and let the bow string slip from her grasp. The arrow shot from her bow, closing the distance in an instant and burying itself into Altmer's face. His head snapped back from the impact and he fell backwards to the ground.

"What in Oblivion was that!?" Sable nearly shouted at her companion.

"I'm sorry." Sionis replied. "I just felt a compulsion to do it. Perhaps Sithis used me to answer your request. Come," he continued starting off towards the Embassy wall. "We should do something about that body."

Her eyes threw daggers into his back as he walked away from her. She could just see the lopsided grin on his face from self-appreciation at his own jab. She replaced her bow on her back and took off at a run to get by him and scale the wall.

"I've killed people for less, you know." She snarled as she passed him by.

The assassin reached the wall first and scaled the stone work portion of it easily. The spiked fencing was another matter though. What saved the whole operation was the decorative nature of the fencing. Every so often there were diamond shaped holes about half way to the top of the fence. Just high enough to use to get over the fence with a decent jump.

After a quick glance in either direction to make sure no other guard was coming, Sable hiked up to the custom-made foot hold and the jump over to the other side. She quickly grabbed her bow and checked both ends of the wall again for any sentries and then called for Sionis to follow her. A moment later the mage plopped rather ungracefully down next to her.

The mage gave a low whistle as he saw Sable's arrow sticking out of the dead elf's left eye.

"You call that shot not being an expert?" He asked.

"He was standing still." Sable chided. "I never would have made it on a moving target."

"I see," the mage replied somewhat doubtfully, still impressed with the shot. "Well, what's next?"

"Now that we're inside, our presence is sure to be detected at some point. The trick is to delay that until we are already gone." The assassin explained to her companion. "So we need to try to hide any bodies we create. And we need to try to be quick. Even if we no one finds a body, someone will eventually notice that someone else has gone missing."

"Okay, so we need to make sure that our first corpse is not discovered, correct?" Sionis asked.

"For as long as possible." She confirmed.

"I can accomplish that." The mage offered cheerfully. And at that he stood and called upon his connection to Aetherius. Using a simple, but Mephala-magnified telekinesis spell, he lifted the dead elf into the air. He held the body there for a moment and then brought forth a wave of telekinetic magic and blasted the corpse off over the side of the cliff. Its limbs failed about wildly as it sailed through air before eventually descending in a slow arc down beyond the mountain side. He fought the strong urge to laugh as he watched the body fall away from sight.

When he turned to face his companion, she was just staring at him her mouth agape.

"What?" He cried. "We needed to hide the body right? If they can find him before we're gone, we deserve to get caught."

She just shook her head at him.

"Come on. We'll check out the main building first. Hopefully we'll find something there." She finally managed to say before crouching and starting on her way.

Sionis sighed and then cast both a muffle and invisibility spell over himself before following.

Sable stayed low as she moved along the walkway just inside the wall towards the main building that separated the two halves of the compound. It was now she noticed that both the wall and the walkway were terraced to accommodate the slope of the mountain with a couple of steps leading up or down at regular intervals. As she came close to the main building, the walkway ended in a sharp right turn with a small staircase leading down to the courtyard. She peeked around the corner and saw two more guards. One up on the wall on the other side of the embassy looking out to the forest beyond and the other was walking a patrol in the courtyard between the main building and the front gate.

She waited, absolutely still, for the guard nearest her to turn his back on her. If she was careful, she could probably slit his throat quietly enough to not alert the other on the wall. Finally with a huff, the Thalmor finally moved along his circuitous route exposing his back to her. The curvy assassin slithered silently down the handful of steps and peaked around the edge towards the gate.

There, at the far end of the courtyard standing at the door to the barracks was a third guard that had, until now, been obscured from view by the walled walkway. Sable frowned. There was now no way to deal with any of them without being noticed. And there also was no entrance into the main building on this side of the of the embassy grounds.

She would just have to sneak across. Fortunately, the stairs leading up to the main door of the embassy were rather grandiose and came down to the middle of the courtyard. And with yet more stone walls running along them, she was confident she could get there without being seen.

She crept out, her eyes constantly darting to each of the three guards to make sure that, with each step, she hadn't been seen. Two more steps were all that were needed. Just two more and she would be hidden once more.

A moment later, she reached a square landing. One more step without any alarm and they would be able to slip into the Embassy undetected. One moment later, she crouched against the upward running stairs having made it across the courtyard unnoticed.

Sable remained low to the ground as she crept up the stairs to the top. Her eyes went wide. The guard that had been standing watching the forest on this side of the compound was gone. Frantically, she whipped her head around searching for him. She was on a rather large landing with the door to the main building just to her left. To her right was a considerable jut of rock that look as if it had been too stubborn for the original builder to carve away; instead the landing and the short stone wall that ran along the outside edges of it had been built on top of it. A few feet beyond the southern edge of the landing was an evergreen tree just tall enough – just full enough – to obscure the southeastern corner of the compound and its wall from view. The far side of the landing was comprised of the outside wall's walkway and in the corner where the walkway met the main building there stood two younger, smaller evergreens.

Silently, the assassin made her way to those two smaller pines. The going was slow but the rewards would be twofold. Not only would she move to position where she could get a view of the whole walkway on this side of the embassy and perhaps locate her missing guard, but she would also gain some cover (however insubstantial it might be) while she searched. She drew up the hood of her armor to conceal her white hair and fair-skinned face and drew up sideways against the smaller of the two trees closer to the main building. With the trunk of the young evergreen concealing as much of her as possible and with the other tree standing in front of the one she was hiding behind, hopefully she wouldn't be seen if her missing sentry looked her way.

She peeked out from behind the pines and found him now standing at the southeast corner, still looking out at the world beyond.

She smiled and silently praised Sithis for her good fortune. Between the low stone walls and the trees, he would never see her make her way into the embassy even if he turned back towards them. She would just have to be quick.

Sable turned and quickly made her way to the door, grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn't budge. The door was locked. Sable cursed and reached into her pocket for some lock picks. Finding only a handful, she hoped that her skills from her thieving days still held up. She set a pick and her bar and began probing. Almost instantly the pick broke. She grabbed another and tried again. Going more slowly, she found a start point before the third pick bent and broke.

Cursing again, Sable ripped her gloves off and slipped yet another in.

"Hurry!" Startled at Sionis' voice right next to her, she jerked and snapped the pick.

"By Sithis, don't do that!" She hissed.

"The guard at the far corner just turned around and is walking back towards us." Came his voice again, ignoring her indignation. "Hurry."

"Just shut up." She responded in a whisper.

Looking down, she saw only two picks left. She set one in lock and took a deep breath before trying once more. "Pulling too quick always yields a broken pick", she heard in her head – one of the many little rhyming mantras that was tossed about to new initiates in the Thieves Guild. Slowly she tested the pick as she searched the lock for just the right position, pulling her bar ever so gently. Each second seemed to take forever and just as she was sure they would be caught, the lock gave way and the door cracked open.

Quickly she shuffled inside and slowly, quietly closed the door behind her. She turned to around to see a Thalmor guard looking right at her, apparently just about to walk out to the courtyard. His eyes went wide. Sable pursed her lips and brought one finger up against them. "Shhhh." His face screwed up in confusion for a moment.

That was all she needed. In that moment of confusion and incredulity, she sprang from her crouch, launching herself at the sentry, daggers leading the way. The blades slammed into him – one in his chest and one in his neck – as she crashed into him, bringing him to the ground with a dull thud. The assassin pulled her elven daggers from the high elf and stayed crouched over him for a moment to see if any other guards had been alerted.

She started when she heard the door open behind her. She spun and watched as it just hung open for a moment before it closed of its own accord.

"Sionis?" she whispered as loudly as she dared. "Is that you?"

"Yes," he answered quietly. "You didn't give me any time to come in with you."

"Sorry, I forgot you were there."

"Understandable." He conceded. There was no hint of anger or frustration in his voice. "I take it we were nearly found out?"

"Yes," came the matter of fact reply from the white-haired assassin. "Now need to move his body to somewhere it's less likely he'll be discovered. I'll take a look around. Alert me if anyone comes along."

She turned back to face the interior of the building. She was at the end of a short hallway that opened into a large room. The second floor of the building hung over the room bit on the far side and was supported by a row of evenly spaced columns. To her left, was a bar with a door behind it.

"Looks like this is some kind of ballroom." She quietly informed her clandestine partner. "This must be where the Embassy parties and gatherings are held. I'm guessing that most of upstairs are bedrooms and guest quarters. I doubt we'll find anything in here. Looks like we can stash him over in the far corner of the ballroom, there. The shadows from the columns should hide him fairly well until morning."

Sable grabbed the body by its feet so as not to get any of the blood on her and laboriously dragged it across the ballroom and stuffed it in the corner.

"That's quite an impressive blood trail you've left." The mage's disembodied voice quipped.

Sable looked down to the floor and took in the obvious sign of her infiltration. She heaved a sigh. "We'll have to be quick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Sable and Sionis are back in action together and their first order of business is to break into the Thalmor Embassy. Coming up in the next few chapters are the rest of the Embassy infiltration and trying to find out more about the AWOL Thalmor, Mala Aran Naga, and how and where he made his pact with the Prince of Plots.
> 
> I've also been thinking about writing a short story (from his point of view) detailing exactly where Mala Aran Naga came from, how he came into contact with Boethiah, and his descent into madness. If anyone would be interested in reading it, let me know.
> 
> Lastly, a huge thanks to everyone that's taken the time to read this story. I appreciate it greatly.
> 
> -E.K.


	24. Chapter 24

"Did they look like this?" Festus Krex said as he pointed to an image in a book he had retrieved from his room a moment before. The image he pointed to depicted a grotesquely thin, grey-skinned creature with spikes protruding from its arms and back and down its tail. It had squinted eyes and a circular shaped mouth with multiple tusks bulging out of it.

"Yes!" exclaimed Babette.

"That's them." Nazir's deep baritone voice confirmed.

"What are they?" Gabriella's softer tones chimed in.

"They are known as The Hunger." Krex answered with his voice that sounded like he had a fair amount of gravel stuck in his throat. "They are the prized servants of the Daedric Prince, Boethiah."

"That's right!" Gabriella chimed in as she finally recalled them. "They belong to the Prince of Plots. I wonder what they are doing on the mortal plane."

"How would I know?" Krex returned. "I just got back to be presented with this mess."

Gabriella turned a glare on the Family's curmudgeon that went ignored.

"Why is it any of our business?" Nazir asked. "It is not our responsibility to solve Nirn's every problem."

"Perhaps not," Astrid finally spoke. "But they keep attacking the Sanctuary. How long do you suppose it will take before they appear in numbers so great that we cannot turn them back? Shall we sit besieged in our own home starving to death?"

"The question of why they are here is secondary." Krex said gruffly. "We should figure out how they are getting here. If we find out how they are getting to the mortal realm, perhaps it could be shut down."

"Is it possible that Boethiah is actually here as well?" Astrid asked everyone.

"I doubt it." Gabriella answered. "The Gauntless hasn't come yet and I doubt Boethiah would remain inconspicuous for so long if he was here."

"The Gauntless?" Astrid asked.

"It's also known as Gauntlet's Day." The dunmer assassin replied. "It is Boethiah's summoning day. It falls on the 2nd of Sun's Dusk."

"That's not quite a month away." Their leader mused.

"That still leaves us with nothing." Arnbjorn said clearly irritated. "And I'd rather deal with them so I don't have to keep repairing Family armor."

"Gabriella, Festus." Astrid looked to each of them. "Do you know of any other abilities they might have aside from disintegrating armor?"

"It is said they have paralytic abilities." Festus offered. "Though I obviously can't confirm that."

"It sstill doess not answer any of our questions." Veezara said. "There musst be ssomething we haven't thought of."

"Perhaps when you speak next, lizard, you could offer something useful or at least original and not just re-state what we already know." Krex shot at him.

"And what help have you been old man?" Nazir boomed. "All you've done is give the problem its name."

"Watch yourself Nazir!" Festus snarled back as loud as his gravelly voice would allow. "I won't tolerate such insolence. . ."

"And when did you become the king of the Family, Festus?" Gabriella broke in.

Within moments, the discussion withered into a cacophony of shouting and insult-hurling and it was just then that Astrid – her eyes focused on the one member of her Family that had been rather quiet through the meeting – saw Babette's eyes go wide as she muttered a single word that was lost in the noise of the Family's discord.

Quiet was quickly restored as Astrid plunged her long dagger into the table they were gathered around with enough force that its blade sunk several inches into the wood.

"If I may have a moment of everyone's time," came the scathing tone in Astrid's otherwise dulcet tones. "I believe our eldest sister has thought of something."

They all looked to Babette as she looked to Astrid and repeated her single word. "Sionis."

Astrid's confused countenance begged the vampire to explain without needing words.

"Do you remember his plight?" The false-child prompted. "There was a mage he was trying to find."

"Yes," Astrid confirmed. "And he apparently found him."

"Do you remember why he was looking?" Babette continued. "The mage had re-animated his beloved sister. But. . ."

Astrid gasped as it hit her.

"Would either of you two kindly tell me what grand revelation you're experiencing?" Festus broke in, once again ignoring the scowls shot his way.

"Didn't Sionis say that what was done was unheard of?" Babette asked.

"No." Astrid corrected almost breathlessly. "He said it was impossible."

"Exactly." The vampire confirmed.

"Still waiting!" Krex barked impatiently.

Astrid turned her gaze on him. "Festus. Could a corpse be re-animated permanently?"

"Of course not." The ancient Imperial snapped. "The zombie would dissolve to dust as soon as the effect ran its course."

"And the mage would have to stay fairly close to it?"

"Yes." Festus confirmed.

"And if I told you there was a mage that had managed to not only permanently raise a dead person but also was nowhere near the area it was found?"

"I would have no problem calling you a fool." Krex fired back not caring a bit about the slight slandering of his leader. "No mage that ever lived could do such a thing."

"Perhaps no human mage?" Astrid coaxed.

"What are you getting at?" The old mage demanded. "Not man, mer or any other race. Only one of the Divines or perhaps a Daedric Prince could. . ." He trailed off as the implication hit him.

A moment later, it seemed to settle upon the others as well, but no one said anything.

"Sionis opened a contract on Boethiah." Babette spoke after a moment of silence. "And Sable is undoubtingly on her way to fulfill it."

"Do you think Sionis knew?" Astrid asked the vampire child, a hard edge to her voice.

Babette shrugged. "I can't say for sure." She replied.

"We must get to her and rescind the contract before it's too late." Astrid ordered.

Once again the room was filled with a multitude of voices all seeking to be heard at once. This time it was their matron jumping up on the table and stamping rather loudly that brought them back under control.

"We can't all go." Astrid said evenly. "A large group will only move that much slower. Besides, there must be some of us that remain behind to look over and defend the Sanctuary. And there will still be contracts to take."

She paused a moment in the silence to make sure that she still had their attention and obedience before stepping from the table and continuing.

"Gabriella and Babette will go."

"If it's speed we are looking for, I can run both day and night." Arnbjorn stated. "I can travel much faster than anyone else here."

"Indeed that is true, my husband." Astrid acknowledged placing a hand on his arm. "But we need you here. We may have need of your blacksmithing."

The werewolf grumbled something under his breath but said nothing aloud against his wife.

"Thank you, husband." She offered. "If we are too late, Babette has the best chance of getting Sable out alive and Gabriella's healing abilities may well be needed." She turned to the two women. "Babette, Gabriella please ready yourselves and set out as soon as you are ready and able." The dunmer and the vampire nodded and left the room in a hurry. "It will be business as usual for the rest of you."

When she had been left alone, the matron of the assassin's guild pulled her blade from the table and sighed. "Please Sithis, be with our little overachiever."

* * *

They came out of the other side of the main building to find it was gently snowing. Sionis was beginning to get uneasy as the body count continued to rise and they still hadn't found anything. Worrying about only having two lock picks left, Sable had followed the path of least resistance through the building – meaning that she turned away from any door that was locked; though there had been only one. He doubted that it held anything, however, as her summation had been correct. Having come through a kitchen, its larder, a smaller banquet room, and several bedrooms on the upper level, it had become quite clear that it was used solely for parties and hosting guests.

Every person they had encountered was now lying dead. So far he had just been following making sure to re-cast his invisibility and muffle spells as needed and worrying about when they would finally be found out and caught. He trailed close behind Sable as she crouched behind the walls of the walkway surrounding the compound and began making her way toward the smaller tower-like building sitting at the north point of the embassy grounds.

Peeking above the wall, she saw just one guard milling about in the courtyard between the two buildings. She took a moment to scan the outer walls to see if any others were walking the perimeter on this side of the compound, but after a moment, refocused her attention on the one in the courtyard.

She crept along the walkway, pressed up against the short interior wall as she made her way towards the small set of stairs that led down into the courtyard. Peering around the corner, she saw the Thalmor sentry milling about between two planters in the middle of the open area facing the target building. Coming at his left shoulder would make sneaking up on him tricky and she hoped his hood obscured enough of his peripheral vision that she could make it behind him unnoticed. Then an idea came to her.

Sable hid herself from view once more.

"Sionis," she whispered, "Are you nearby?"

"Yes." Came the disembodied whisper in reply.

"If I remember, attacking someone will break your invisibility spell, right?"

"Correct." The invisible mage replied.

"What if you just throw a rock or something at no one?" She asked a smiling forming on her face.

"I'm not sure." He answered.

"What do you mean?" She retorted incredulously. "How do you not know?"

"I've never tried it." He snapped back. "Why would I have ever had a reason to do so?"

The assassin huffed and frowned and was quiet for a moment.

"Well, it's time to find out." She said still whispering. "Find a rock and throw it as far as you can across the courtyard. Make sure it makes some noise."

"Why? I thought we wanted to remain concealed for as long as possible."

"Just do it." She hissed.

"Fine."

A moment later she heard a small clattering noise in the walkway across the courtyard. She peeked around the corner of the stairs again to see that the desired effect had been achieved. The hooded guard straightened and turned his attention to the sound and began walking away from them.

Sable took off from her hiding place moving swiftly, but silently. She was right behind her prey in mere moments and wasted no time in grabbing his mouth and yanking his head back before slitting his throat. She let go and he fell to the ground in a heap and the snow around quickly began to stain crimson. Without taking even a moment to consider yet another murder this night, she quickly turned and headed for the door of the final building.

She was there in a moment and knelt down pulling her last two picks and set to work. Knowing that her remaining picks were beyond precious, the assassin went slowly. Just as when she had finally cracked the door to the main building, she paused frequently and tugged ever so gently trying to find the sweet spot.

"Sable!" came the frantic whisper of her invisible companion, startling her and causing her to jerk the pick in her hand. Miraculously, while she did bend it quite a bit, it didn't break.

Her response was to scowl and take a swipe at where the voice had come from. She landed a glancing blow. It was so weak that if her companion even felt it, he didn't make mention of it.

"Sable!" He cried out again.

"What?" She snapped back.

"This is the Solar."

"So what?"

"Do you know what this building is?"

"Yeah! The  _Solar_!" She mockingly mimicked him.

"This is the personal quarters and office of the Thalmor ambassador!" Sionis exclaimed not paying attention to her teasing him.

"Really?" She asked genuinely now.

"Yes!"

"Great. We're sure to find those personnel files in here."

Behind her, she heard a long exasperated sigh.

"Just be careful." The mage admonished.

Sable turned her attention back to the door lock. She took it even more slowly than before, determined not to break this pick and be left with only one for whatever encounters she might yet face. Minutes passed by as she blocked out everything but feeling for the correct catch on the pick. Finally, it clicked into place and the door was opened. Her elation at the hard won victory quickly vanished, however, as the pick snapped in half as she tried to pull it from the lock.

This time she held the door cracked open just enough to peek inside and see if there were any surprises waiting. Not seeing any sentries she proceeded inside, pausing long enough to allow her companion to enter in before her.

She quietly eased the door closed and turned to survey the private apartment of the Thalmor ambassador. Immediately in front of her was an expensive looking rug on which sat two tables and a pair of chairs. There were several arched columns arranged in the corner of a square supporting the upper floor. Beyond them she saw a staircase leading up to the second floor. To her left, she saw a door to another room. Another open room comprised the far corner of the left side of this floor.

She made for the door of the additional room and tried the handle. She cursed when she found it locked. Moving along, she found the open room to contain a pair of bookshelves, a desk and several chests. Sable moved around the desk and opened it. Her eyes went wide and a smile of delight spread across her face. There were two neat piles of papers contained within. When she looked closer she saw that she could not make out what was written on them.

"Can you read elven script?" She whispered, hoping her companion was close by.

"Yes, of course." He whispered back.

"Take a look at these and tell me if they're what we're looking for."

She felt rather than saw him lean in closer. After a moment he whispered, "They are dossiers on Thalmor agents. One pile looks to be for those currently serving in Skyrim and the others on those serving elsewhere. That is, if the top of each pile indicates the contents of each one."

Sable thought for a moment. "You keep looking here. I'll see if there is anything in that locked room."

A light tap on her shoulder indicated his consent and she went back to the locked door and stuck her last pick in the lock.

Fortunately, this lock was much simpler and thus much easier to get past. There were again a pair of bookshelves and desk – this one placed in center of the room. Across the room from her sat a glass display case.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she ignored the desk and crossed the room to peer into the display case. Inside were a pair of gold circlets, one with a triplet of emeralds set into it. The other held a similarly ostentatious rubies, but it was the pair of elven daggers sitting between them with their blades crossed over each other that drew her attention. And just then, she forgot the reason for being here. She had to have those daggers. She knelt to pick the lock on the display case. She inserted the pick and began feeling out the lock. A moment later she thought she heard a slight scuffling sound out beyond the office she was in, but when no other sounds followed, she thought nothing of it and continued to work the lock.

She was so close when she felt the presence of someone behind her at the office the door. The sound of it creaking as it was opened wider confirmed to her that she wasn't alone. At moment later the silence was broken by a commanding voice that most certainly did not belong to Sionis.

"Halt!"

She froze only for a moment before resuming her work on the lock.

"You there." The voice most certainly belonged to a guard. "Get up."

Just as his hand gripped her shoulder in an effort to pull her to her feet, the lock on the display case clicked open.

"I said . . ."

He didn't get to finish. In a flash, the white-haired assassin stood while grabbing the top dagger from the case. Finishing the fluid movement, she whirled around and stabbed the dagger right into the guard's neck. His eyes flew open in shock, but he couldn't make sound against the quicksilver blade lodged in his throat.

Sable's eyes also went wide in surprise as she felt invigorating energy twirl up her arm. It hit her chest and she found that she felt stronger and livelier. The infusion lasted only a short time as it didn't take long for the Atlmer to bleed out and die. The dagger slid out from his neck with a squelching sound and spurt of blood from the severed artery. The flourishing feeling lingered and she stared awestruck at the dagger. It was gone in the blink of an eye, but she thought for sure she had seen a red glimmer dance across the length of the blade and down through the hilt.

She turned and grabbed the other dagger and noticed the same almost imperceptibly fast glimmer on it as well, though this one was a deep green color. She turned them over in her hands a couple of times before wiping the clean the first blade and depositing them into a pair of empty sheaths on her belt. She looked back at the circlets and wondered if they also housed some marvelous secrets.

Just then, Sionis came into the room. He was visible.

"Why didn't you do anything about him?" She asked in a whisper.

"My invisibility wore off just before I saw him coming down the steps." He explained with a pleading look on his face. "I couldn't have re-cast without him hearing or seeing me. Trying to warn you would have given me away as well, so I quickly ducked under the desk. I'm sorry."

"I see," was all she said for a moment while cocking an eyebrow up as she stared at him. After a moment of watching him squirm, she finally let him off. "It's okay. If I couldn't take care of a single guard, I wouldn't be much of an assassin, now would I."

She looked back down to the circlets and then back at him. "Do you have any pockets in all those robes of yours?"

"Yes," he replied, the confusion evident in his voice. "Why?"

"Here," she reached into the display case and grabbed the two circlets. "Keep these for me," she said before tossing them his way. It was rather clumsy, but he managed to not drop either of them and straightened himself before tucking them into the folds of his robes.

"Was there anything in here pertaining to our quest?" He asked.

"I don't know." Sable said somewhat sheepishly. "I went for the display case first."

"What?" Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "You set our mission aside for some trinkets?"

"The jewelry was just a nice find. The real treasure was the daggers that were in there as well."

"Hope they're worth it." The mage grumbled.

"They are elven make." She said in attempt to justify her interest but the blank look on his face told her that he didn't understand the significance. "Never mind. Let's just see if there is anything interesting in here."

They both made their way to the desk and opened it. Inside was another stack of papers. Sionis bent over to inspect the elven writing.

"These are all dossiers on agents that have been killed or went missing." He remarked. "This is most likely what we've been looking for."

"Good. You look through them and get what we need. I have one last person to send to the Void."

"What do you mean?" Sionis questioned. "You don't mean Elenwen, do you?"

"Who's Elenwen?"

"The ambassador."

"Oh, yes. She's the one." She turned to away but he stopped her.

"You can't kill the ambassador!" The mage exclaimed.

"Why not? Why can't I kill her?" Sable challenged.

"Think about the repercussions of killing the Thalmor ambassador." He answered incredulously.

"Okay, I kill her and we leave." She replied quickly.

"If you kill her the Thalmor will launch an investigation into who killed her. Maybe they trace it back to the Dark Brotherhood or maybe they don't. But if they do, they won't stop until the Dark Brotherhood has been purged from Skyrim."

"And if I leave her alive, she does the same thing." She asserted.

"No, if you leave her alive, she will have to report the deaths and the theft of both some treasures, but more importantly, some very valuable personnel records." Sionis corrected. "She would be disgraced and replaced and the Thalmor will attempt to cover everything up to avoid the scandal of appearing weak to the Empire and the rest of Tamriel."

He waited while she took it all in. "Fine," Sable conceded. "The precious Elenwen can live, but there is still something I need to do. You find our records. I'll be back." She turned and left the room before he could argue further.

A short while, Sable returned looking quite smug and proud of herself.

"What did you do?" The dark-eyed mage asked.

"Don't worry. She's still alive." She assured him, but added when the questioning look didn't leave his face. "And unharmed. Did you find the files we needed?"

"Not yet." He answered looking back down into the desk. "There's too many here."

"Then just grab them all. We need to go before someone finds a body and the rest of the embassy comes down on us."

"You mean we didn't kill everyone yet?" He sneered at her while gathering up all the files.

"We?" She teased. "You didn't kill anyone. In fact, when you had your one chance to do so, you hid under a desk."

"What?" He cried as he shot a glare at her. "My killing him would've woke the embassy. I didn't think we needed that."

She giggled at him. "And no, not everyone is dead. Let's go."

* * *

"Madam Ambassador. . ."

Elenwen slowly woke to the sound of someone calling for her.

"Madam Ambassador. . ."

As her eyes fluttered open, she realized it was the voice of her commanding officer calling from the door to her bedroom.

"What is it, captain?"

"I beg your pardon for waking you Madam Ambassador," he began, "But there has been an intrusion on the Embassy."

Her golden eyes snapped open. Suddenly all lingering sleepiness was gone.

"What!?" She barked. "What do you mean by 'an intrusion'?"

"All but three members of the night watch are dead, Madam Ambassador." The captain stated obviously trying to keep the unease from his voice.

"What!?" The First Emissary of the Thalmor roared. "How did this happen?"

"We are still investigating Madam," he replied. "I decided to notify you as soon as I possibly could."

"I will be with you in a moment, captain."

"Yes, Madam."

As she rose, her eyes caught the movement of something tumbling into her lap. The Altmer looked down to see a flower. It must have been placed on her chest while she slept. She picked it up and inspected it. It had the same downward cascade of layered petals as a deathbell, but instead of the normal purple, violet, or blues hues, this one was white with just the faintest tinges of purple at the base and edges of each of its flowers. As far as she could tell, it truly was a white deathbell flower.

The astonishment at the floral oddity was quickly replaced by rage as she again realized that it must have been placed on her while she slept. The murderous intruder had been in her bedroom – had stood over her and could have easily killed her as well.

The high elf ripped the bed covers off of her and stormed out of her bed. She went to her wardrobe and quickly dressed in some robes before going to the door to meet with her officer.

As she arrived, she saw that her door was slightly ajar; further evidence that her personal bedroom had played host to their intruder. She flung it open to see that a lesser officer was now talking to the captain. When they both saw her, they hurriedly finished their conversation and the lower ranking soldier was dismissed.

The captain looked at her apprehensively. "Madam Ambassador," he started somewhat nervously, "I'm afraid there is more to the breach."

"And what would that be?"

"This appears to be a theft." The captain replied.

"And what was taken that was worth the lives of half a dozen Thalmor officers?" She demanded.

"The display case in your office has been emptied." He answered. At first she was a bit incredulous at the report of the missing items. While certainly valuable, the enchanted daggers and the pair of circlets she had there were certainly replaceable. But her eyes stretched to their very limits when he continued. "A large number of personnel files appear to have been taken as well."

"What!?" She nearly screamed before striking him across the face. "Which ones?"

"We are still sorting through everything, but it looks like the files regarding those who were killed or went missing. It appears that the thieves were looking for those files specifically. The desk that contained the other files was searched, but so far it doesn't appear any of them are missing."

With that last statement, Elenwen was spun into a whole new level of anger. Seething, she could only manage to get out two words through clenched teeth. "Show me."

The captain turned and led her downstairs to her office and around to her emptied desk. Her eyes went wide and she nearly shook with anger.

"How did this happen, captain?"

"I'm . . . well . . . we are still gathering information on that Madam." He finally managed. "Unfortunately, last night's snow has covered over any tracks the intruder left. We can only go by the bodies found throughout the main building and here in your solar. And there is still one guard that is unaccounted for."

The ambassador stood there staring at the blank space in her desk where the stack of papers should have been.

"The disappearance of the one guard may point to this being an inside job." The captain offered a moment later.

She rounded on him with a withering glare. "Either way, captain, you should make peace with the Divines because it is almost certain we shall be joining them as soon as the Dominion finds out about this."

"Leave us." The captain commanded the others in the room. Once they all had complied, he continued their conversation. "Perhaps, Madam Ambassador, they don't need to find out."

"What do you mean?" She snapped, her patience having been exhausted shortly after getting out of bed.

"I simply mean they need not find out about this." He replied. "We can cover it up. I can thin the watches a bit until you can replace the murdered men little by little. If everything is done right, the Dominion wouldn't notice anything amiss."

"Tell me, captain," The Altmer woman purred malevolently. "Why do you suppose we've been gathering and compiling all of these records?"

"I know not, Madam." The officer admitted.

"Do you not recall that we receive a representative from the Dominion every half year to audit our records?"

The captain's face drained of its color.

"That's right, captain." She continued at seeing the look of horror on his face. "We needed those records as the Dominion representative is due to arrive in two days."

"Could . . . could we forge the records in the meantime?" He asked with only a small amount of hope in his voice.

"It's an audit, you idiot!" Elenwen screamed, slapping him for the second time that morning. "Unless the forgeries are exact replicas of the real records we would be found to not only be incompetent, but also trying to cover it up."

"Forgive me, Madam Ambassador." The captain replied immediately. "I was simply trying to assist you in any way I could."

"My dear, Captain." The ambassador mockingly consoled. "Don't worry so much about giving me any apologies." She paused to see his countenance lighten a bit, before crushing it. "Instead, I'll take any last requests."

His eyes went wide and he fell to his knees. "Please, Madam, please. I beg you. . ."

"Guards!" She called and within a moment, several filed into the room. She looked at them and found the highest ranking among them and pointed to him. "You. You are hereby temporarily given the rank of captain. Please take the former captain here to the dungeons below and have him executed. Slowly."

The man nodded and signaled his new charges to take hold of their former commander. He never stopped pleading as they stripped him of his weapons and armor and drug him from the room.

Elenwen didn't hear any of it. She was already contemplating her choices. As she saw it, she could wait for the representative from the Dominion and his party, explain what happened, and eventually share in her former captain's fate, or she could flee, taking whatever valuables she could carry and hiding from her former employers for as long as she could manage. The decision wasn't a difficult one to make.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so enjoyed writing this chapter. It may actually be one of my favorites. Hope you all enjoy reading it.  
> \- E. K.

I need to take a break." Sionis stated, rubbing his eyes as he stood from the desk in the room he had rented in The Winking Skeever. "All the letters are beginning to look the same."

Sable looked up from sharpening her elven daggers. She sighed and then tucked it back into its belt sheath. "Okay," she answered as she stood and walked towards the door. "I'm going to see about getting something to eat."

The mage nodded his acknowledgement.

"If you go out, do not draw attention," she warned. "Remember we're not very far from the Embassy." With that, she left his room.

Sionis remained for a moment and rubbed his stiff, aching neck and shoulders. He tilted his head and rocked it from side to side. A moment later, he tucked the papers away in the desk and left the room, making sure to lock the door behind him.

He sighed as he looked at the only other door on the second floor of the inn. Sable had once again insisted on getting separate rooms. At least they were right next to each other. He walked downstairs and turned into the main dining area of the inn. This one was quite compartmentalized. Unlike almost every other inn at which he had stayed, The Winking Skeever was very segregated in the building's arrangement. It was mainly due to the domed entryway supported by massive arched columns. If one headed straight through the somewhat enclosed area upon coming into the inn, they would find the main bar just on the other side of the columns. To the right of that bar was a fireplace complete with a stone chimney that went all the way to the ceiling high above. If one turned to their right as they entered, they would end up in a rather large dining area with numerous tables and chairs. All told, The Winking Skeever was one of the larger inns in all of Skyrim, but it didn't seem that way thanks to the maze-like layout of the building.

Sionis made his way through the inn and walked outside. He squinted at the bright sunlight that greeted him. Even though the sun shone brilliantly in a nearly cloudless sky, it was quite brisk. He stood and looked around, unsure of what to do as his breath swirled visibly around his head. They had arrived in Solitude with their stolen dossiers a couple of days ago and this was the first time he had left the inn. He had been pouring over the pile of documents looking for any leads on mages that went missing. So far, there had been nothing to show for his efforts and his tired eyes simply couldn't keep it up anymore.

While he had been in Solitude before, he wasn't overly familiar with the city. He did know enough of it to know that none of the shops really interested him. With the massive city gates to his right, there wasn't much choice but to head left into the city. He started on his way, heading towards the general goods store. Perhaps they would have something to pique his interest.

Just before the lane opened out into a broader thoroughfare that circled around a tall pointed building, he spotted the sign proclaiming the general store on his right. It was called Bits and Pieces. He opened the door and went inside.

There was a somewhat long hallway he had to walk through before getting to the actual store. Behind the counter stood an older Redguard woman. She smiled warmly when she saw him.

"Welcome to Bits and Pieces." She greeted him. "We have the best prices in all of Solitude, if not Skyrim."

"Good day." Sionis replied politely.

"How can I help you?" She asked pleasantly.

"I don't know." He admitted. "I honestly didn't have anything in mind. Do you carry any magical items? Spellbooks or any staves, perhaps?"

"I have only a few spell books." She answered. "You're welcome to take a look."

"Sure."

She turned and pulled three books from a shelf behind her before setting them on the counter in front of her patron.

Sionis looked them over and was disappointed, but not surprised, when he saw that he already knew the spells they had to offer. He looked up to her and smiled before shaking his head.

"I know all of these." The mage offered. "But, thank you."

"My pleasure." She gave him yet another smile.

He was about to turn to leave, when he stuck his hand in one of the pockets in his robe and felt the edge of one of the circlets that had been taken from the Embassy. Once they had cleared the Embassy and made it to Solitude, Sable had given him the one set with emeralds. She had asked if he wanted to "split the loot". Unsure of what she meant, he had accepted and explained that he could have one of the circlets. She had said that she like the color of the ruby beset crown and had asked to keep that one.

Somewhat confused, Sionis had readily agreed and had stuffed his "take" into his robes and had forgotten about it, not knowing at the time what he was going to do with the expensive piece of jewelry. Now he had an idea. He turned back to the shop's proprietor.

"Do you, by chance, purchase items?"

A few moments later, Sionis walked out of Bits and Pieces having sold the emerald circlet. The Redguard proprietor had turned out to be a stiff negotiator and he didn't get what he would have liked, but since the price she had bullied him down to was considerably more than what was in his ever dwindling coin purse, he didn't raise much objection.

As the door closed behind him, he took in a deep breath of the frigid air before heading back through town towards the inn. He was about half-way there when he was accosted by a finely dressed Altmer woman.

"You there," she called out to him. "You look to be a victim that I can certainly help."

"A victim?" Sionis questioned. "I'm not a victim of anything."

"Indeed you are." The high elf replied. "You are afflicted quite woefully with the illness of poor taste. And you can be cured of it at the Radiant Raiment."

"Raiment?" The mage muttered. And then it dawned on him. This woman was a clothier. He rolled his eyes. "I don't have any need of your  _cures_  or services, thank you."

"Of course you do." She snapped back at him. "Everyone is in need of the finest of clothing that only we can provide."

"Really?" Sionis countered curtly. "And how many mages come to your doors pining for ' _the finest of clothing_ '?"

"We carry a sizable stock of enchanted robes and accessories for the discerning mage." She replied and, upon seeing the surprise in his face that they actually carried mage robes, continued. "But why settle for being simply the best dressed mage when you can be mistaken for nobility?"

The dark-eyed mage rolled his eyes again and went to walk past her and continue on his way to the inn. A step later, an idea hit him and a sly smile stretched across his face. He turned back to the Altmer woman.

"Can you show me the way to your shop?"

She smiled back at him. "Of course." She purred. "You won't be disappointed, I assure you."

Sionis barely kept a boyish giggle from spilling out as he followed her to their shop that stood almost directly across from The Winking Skeever. The mental picture of Sable awkwardly bumbling around in a dress fit for ' _nobility_ ' was, arguably, worth another elbow to the side of his head. As the high elf held open the door for him and he stepped inside, he was certain her assessment, off target as it was, would prove to be accurate.

He walked down the short hallway to the counter to find another high elf woman bustling behind it. When she turned and saw him, her eyes went wide for a moment before narrowing back into slits.

"Well aren't we a most needy case." She greeted him snidely. "My considerable skills are apparently to be given a test today."

Sionis took a moment to look back at the door of the shop, wondering if somehow the woman from the street had not only slipped by him unnoticed, but had also changed her appearance as well.

"Are you here to shop, or simply to waste my time?" She asked impatiently.

"I'm here to shop," he answered. "Just not for me."

The shopkeeper's eyes shot into the top of her skull. "Oh, thank the Divines." She responded with biting sarcasm. "A double blind."

"Is it really that bad that I wish to purchase something?" The mage asked taken aback by her abrasiveness. "Even if it isn't for me?"

"Probably." She retorted immediately. "But let's find out. Are you shopping for another man? Or for a woman?"

"A woman. A Nord woman." Sionis confirmed.

"And I don't suppose you know her measurements?"

"I . . . no, I don't." The mage answered feeling rather defeated by the simple though rudely posed question.

"Of course not." The Altmer said with an exaggerated sigh. "Come, let's take a look and we'll just have to do our best."

Sionis began to feel ire toward the woman rise up within him, but he pushed it aside. If he could finally show up his deadly companion, it would be worth putting up with a pompous dress merchant.

"And what kind of flower are we looking to bloom today?" She asked as she walked around the counter.

The question caught the mage off guard and at first he wasn't sure how to answer. It was Sable he was thinking about. What flower in all of Tamriel could possibly describe her? He wracked his brain for everything he had learned about her since the time they had met. And then it hit him. He remembered what she had called herself when they had first met.

"A white deathbell." He stated looking back to the clothier.

"A what?"

"A white deathbell." Sionis repeated confidently.

"That flower doesn't even exist." She scornfully pointed out.

"Wouldn't that be irrelevant to a master of fashion such as yourself?" He cleverly challenged. "Just picture a deathbell flower, but make it white."

"Of course." She snapped after a moment of stunned silence, before leading her irritatingly perplexing customer about the store.

They walked around the shop for some time with Sionis rejecting everything he was shown, much to the chagrin of the high elf shop owner. They had long ago run through all the white dresses in the store and she was now taking him through everything else in stock. Still he shot down her suggestions. If he was going to do this, the dress had to be perfect. He wanted to laugh until he cried and, hopefully, never let her live it down.

He was just about to give up when the other Altmer woman that first approached him in the street walked in. She walked right up to her business partner in a huff.

"Endarie, I just received notice from a courier about the special order for the duchess of Skingrad." She said, thrusting a note into other woman's hand. "They had to cancel their trip to Skyrim so they have also cancelled the order for the dress they commissioned."

The other said nothing and opened the letter to read it for herself. A moment later, she crumpled the paper in her hand and threw it across the store.

"Of all the nerve . . ." She fumed. "I had just finished it. Well, at least we get to keep the initial deposit." Her partner was just about to open her mouth to reply, when Sionis cleared his throat to get their attention. They both turned to stare at him.

"May I see this special order?"

"Why of course," she snarled mockingly. "I'm sure you'd love to reject this one as well."

She turned and stomped into a back room leaving the mage with her business partner. Sionis looked to the woman who had first caught his attention.

"You wish to see a dress?" She questioned.

"I decided to shop for a friend of mine, rather than myself." Sionis answered somewhat meekly.

Before she could answer, her business partner returned with the dress that had previously not been for sale to the public. She laid it out on the table. Sionis knew instantly that this dress was the one.

"I'll take it." He said with a smile.

Both women looked at him in astonishment. "But the dress is not white. It does not fit your initial description of the person receiving it." Endarie objected.

"It fits perfectly." The mage corrected. "Deathbells are supposed to be a deep purple."

There was a moment where both Altmer seemed to want to object his desired purchase further, but could not find the words to do so.

"Yes, this is the perfect dress, but can you add some embroidery, here?" He asked, pointing to a section coming down the left side of the dress from the neckline.

"Let me guess." The woman showing off the dress said nastily. "You want me to add some deathbell flowers."

"Exactly," Sionis answered beaming. "In white."

Flustered, but defeated, Endarie looked at him and said. "Fine, you may purchase the dress provided you can afford it.

"But, you've already been paid a deposit for the dress, correct?" Sionis asked. "I'm fairly sure I can make up the difference."

Both Endarie and her partner fixed murderous stares at him. "Yes, I'm sure that will be quite satisfactory." Endarie finally said through clenched teeth. "Is this friend of yours here in Solitude with you?"

"Yes, we're both staying at The Winking Skeever."

"Taarie, follow him to the inn and try to get a look at this woman." Endarie, instructed her partner. "The dress will most likely need no small amount of alterations."

* * *

About an hour after he had left The Winking Skeever, Sionis walked back through the door followed by Taarie from the Radiant Raiment. The idea was for her to hang back and he would approach his friend for whom he was buying the dress. She would then size up the woman's measurements and report back to Endarie. Even though his coin purse was now lighter than he would have liked, Sionis had promised them an extra bit of gold if they would be able to have all the alterations done by the following day.

Sionis quickly turned to the dining area on his right, hoping Sable would still be there and also hoping that she was wearing the rather common blue dress she had brought with her from Whiterun. He was thrilled when he found both of his hopes answered.

He spotted her sitting in the far corner of the dining room looking like she was just finishing her meal. He quickly walked over to her.

"I think I'm ready to get back at it." He announced.

"Good." Sable replied. "Did you eat anything while you were out and about?"

"I . . . well . . . no, I didn't think of it." He answered awkwardly. "I . . . didn't feel particularly hungry. I'll come down for some stew a bit later."

For a moment, she just stared at him, but then, finally, accepted his explanation and rose from her seat and walked back upstairs with him.

Taarie watched as the two walked right past her and eventually disappeared to the second floor of the inn before turning and heading back to her shop.

* * *

Sionis started awake at the knocking on his door. It was very early morning judging by the grey light spilling through his window. The knocking came again. The mage shuffled awkwardly out of bed and made his way to the door. He swung the door opened and shrieked. Standing there, just outside his room, was a young woman with golden blonde hair. She had quite the pretty face with crystal blue eyes, a short pert nose, and light pink lips. She stood in a lovely white dress that was just perfect for a summer's day picnic.

"Clairiss." Sionis breathed.

Her warm, delightful smile suddenly turned to a scowl. "Sionis." She said, her high sweet voice tainted with anger that seemed to roll turbulently through the room. "You failed me."

She took a step forward into the room as the mage, struck with surprise and horror, backed away from her. Her delicate maidenly hands were clenched into fists that were shaking at her sides. As she crossed the threshold into his room, her appearance changed. Her radiant blonde hair lost its luster and became thin, hollow, and stiff like straw. Her eyes changed to a dull, lifeless grey and then completely white. Her skin went pale as Skyrim snow and patches of it peeled away and fell to the ground. Her figure became gaunt – nearly bone thin.

"You failed me!" The wraith that once was Clairiss hissed venomously at him.

"Clairiss … I … I … I'm sorr …"

"You failed to protect me and let me die!" She shrieked at him. "And you have failed to avenge me!"

"Clairiss … I …" Sionis trembled and couldn't speak any further. Tears streamed down his face as he continued to retreat.

She advanced on him with every back-step he took. "My spirit cannot rest!" The specter of death wailed. Blood spattered from her mouth as her teeth had now grown impossibly long and sharp and cut her mouth to ribbons. "My spirit will not rest!"

Sionis bumped into the far wall of room. He was now backed into a corner with nowhere to go.

"You failed me!" Her screams were now loud and shrill enough that they felt like nails being driven through his temples. "And now I shall avenge my soul by feasting on yours!"

The mage screamed as she now stood over him. Blood poured from her maw as she opened it wide. Her face contorted as her mouth grew horrifyingly large. The wraith stood with her mouth agape for one breath as she towered over him. Then the mouth filled with countless, curved and razor-sharp teeth came down upon him. Sionis screamed again as his sister bit into him, slicing through flesh and bone, piercing both body and soul.

* * *

Sionis' eyes slammed open at the sound of his door crashing against the wall. He was still screaming though he couldn't hear it. Then he saw it. The dark figure bolting through the red-orange glow of the hallway beyond and into his room. The mage flung himself backwards, scrambling as hard as he could against the headboard of his bed to get away from the Oblivion spawned demon. Perhaps he could vanish into the darkness and it wouldn't find him.

A moment later, he was blinded by a burst of light. It stung his eyes. He kicked all the harder to try to escape. Then the creature grabbed a hold of his shoulders. It had caught him.

"NO!" He cried and began flailing and thrashing to break the fiend's grip. "I'm sorry. I never meant for it to happen."

He threw a frantic punch at the creature. The figure easily dodged it and quickly moved behind and wrapped its arms around him.

"No. Please." He wailed trying to break free. "Please. I'm sorry."

The creature gently and softly shushed him. "Sionis. You're okay. Sionis."

The voice was familiar and held no menace in it. "Sionis. I'm here, Sionis."

He let his head roll back and looked up into the creature's face. He saw pale blue-silver eyes filled with concern looking back at him. Finally, Sionis calmed and realized what the creature was.

"S … Sa … Sable." He choked out.

"Yes. I'm here." She soothed. She brought a hand to his head a stroked his dark-blonde hair. "Are you alright?"

For a moment, he felt the panic again and his eyes darted around the room. The door sat wide open and the torch on the wall was now lit. He was soaked with sweat and shivered uncontrollably. Finally his eyes went back to Sable.

"I … ", was all he could manage before the sobs overtook him.

Sable just sat there with him in her arms and stroked his hair while gently rocking him and shushing him. After only moments, his weeping stopped and he looked up at her again. His face seemed very much like that of a scared little boy's.

"Are you alright?" She asked again already knowing the answer.

Sionis shook his head. "No." He said weakly. "I don't know how I ever will be."

"I know." The assassin assured him.

"It was Clairiss. She was … "

"You don't have to tell me." Sable said before he went back too deeply into the nightmare. "Don't tell me. Just let me hold you. Let me comfort you."

"But … ", he protested, but stopped. There was a look in her eyes that told him she knew what he had been through. While she couldn't have known what he had just experienced, it was clear that she knew what had happened to him and that, more than anything, allowed him to let the fear slowly ebb out of him.

"You're okay now." She spoke soothingly to him.

With all the terror and adrenaline subsiding, Sionis fell back into tears. He turned his face into her shoulder and wept.

Her arms never left him. "I'm here." She said again. "And I'll stay by you."

Eventually, the mage lost himself to sleep again. Sable continued to hold him for a while afterwards. It struck her just then that this man had become a part of her. It was much like her Family, but it was also different somehow. And she knew what her Family had done for her and she knew what she would do for him.

* * *

Sionis' eyes fluttered open and he groaned. Immediately, there was movement next to him. He lifted his head and saw that it was Sable. She had apparently stayed the rest of the night in a chair in his room. After lighting a candle, she moved to the bed and looked down on him with concern in her eyes.

"Sable?"

"Yes. I'm here." She replied.

He attempted to sit up, but his companion disallowed it by pushing him back down. He acquiesced when the headache came slamming through his temples and settled itself right behind his eyes. Eventually he settled on his elbows so that he could be slightly inclined.

"Sable, I …" was all he could manage before she shushed him.

"I know." She soothed.

"It was so real." He paused as he realized he had no idea what he could or should say. It didn't help that his head was throbbing.

"I know." She said again.

"But …"

"I know." She cut him off again. "I had a similarly terrifying experience a while ago … before I met you. I was so crazed that Gabriella had to use her magic to get me back to sleep. You don't have to tell me anything. I know."

Sionis nodded meagerly before resting his head back down on his pillow. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh and then reached over and grabbed her hand and gave it a brief squeeze to comfort himself.

"Thank you." The mage whispered.

The only answer he got before drifting off again was receiving a gentle squeeze of his hand in return.

* * *

Sable was roused by Sionis waking again. Her neck gave her quite the reminder that she had spent her night sleeping in a chair. It was finally morning and so she just sat up and watched the mage gently come out of his sleep.

"Good morning." She said mildly.

"Yes," the mage replied, "It is good that it is finally here. Did you stay here the entire night?"

"I did." She replied.

"You didn't … Thank you."

She smiled and offered a slow nod of her head, but otherwise did not acknowledge his gratitude. She wasn't sure how to do so for some reason.

"I'll go get us both some breakfast from the inn." Sable finally said, changing the subject. "You need to get back to those dossiers to find a lead on Naga."

"I did." Sionis answered.

Sable hadn't quite made it to the door and spun back around to face him again. "You found something?"

"I did."

"When?"

"Last night, before I went to bed." The mage replied.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was very late, Sable." He answered, a touch of irritation at her questioning creeping into his voice. "I figured it would be best to let us get some rest and start fresh in the morning. I probably would have woke you if I had known …"

He trailed off, not wanting to mention the dream or anything else that had happened.

She said nothing for a while. She just stood there studying him as he sat in his bed. It was excruciating. He suddenly felt vulnerable and weak before her and the way she just stood there seemingly exploring his insides caused him to shrink more and more with each passing moment.

"It was the right decision." She finally said. "What did you find?"

With the moment of soul inspection having passed, Sionis was finally able to pull himself back to together.

"Nope." He smiled as he refused her. "Not until we have some breakfast."

"What?" She exclaimed incredulously. "You better be kidding."

"No." He stated simply. "You offered breakfast. I'm taking you up on that offer. I'm not saying anything until I have some breakfast."

She folded her arms over her chest as she fixed him with a murderous glare.

Sionis immediately lost some of his bluster under the menace of her scowl. He swallowed hard. "I-I mean … well, it will give us a chance to … to at least get dressed."

The white-haired assassin quickly looked down at herself to see she was standing there still in her sleeping gown and blushed furiously.

"Oh!" She squeaked, her cheeks still scarlet. "Of course." She then whipped her gaze back to him trying to put her glare back on, something her still burning face would not allow. "I'll be back." She huffed. "Get dressed."

With that, she turned and fled the room. Sionis could only heave a sigh of relief as he pulled himself from his bed.

Sable returned a short while later dressed in the rather plain blue dress she'd been wearing while in town. In each hand was a bowl of cheesy potatoes. She gave one to Sionis, then sat down in the chair she'd slept in the previous night. There was no conversation between the two as they ate and it wasn't long before they had finished.

The pale silver-blue eyed assassin took the bowls and set them aside before sitting down again.

"So, tell me what you found out." She requested simply.

"It seems the Thalmor are quite interested in the reappearance of dragons here in Skyrim." Sionis answered. "They've been sending small, discrete teams out all over country to gather information on the phenomenon."

"Okay, what does that have to do with your mage?" Sable asked, confused by the seemingly unrelated subject.

"Well, there was a lot to go through, but I eventually found all the dossiers on a team they sent to Kynesgrove to investigate." Sionis patted his hands in the air, telling her to be patient when he paused, clearly seeing the impatience grow on his companion's face. "Generally the teams consisted of a pair of mages and a pair of soldiers. But the team that was sent to Kynesgrove consisted of just three mages. None of them returned. All marked as 'missing, presumed dead'."

"And how do we know that this group had this Maga mage in it?" She cut in.

"Naga." The mage corrected her.

"Whatever."

"Be patient, Sable." Sionis said, a little impatience of his own creeping into his voice. "Just let me finish."

The assassin rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"While I did find it interesting when I first came across it, I had the same opinion as you. It told me nothing that confirmed Naga was a member of the party. After having gone through the stack of names for the third time, I was beyond frustrated and decided to leave it. Just for something to do, I opened the mad elf's journal and began reading it again. Very early in it, he reference's the garden of Kynareth as the place where 'the blackness swallowed' him before he was 're-born into his true self'.

"Initially, I didn't think anything of it, but something made me go back and read it again. And that's when it hit me."

He paused with an excited smile spread across his face and just stared at her as if the connection was obvious.

"What?" Sable finally exclaimed after the awkwardness of him staring at her with that goofy expression became too much to bear.

His smile died instantly and he sighed.

"In Cyrodiil, most people refer to Shor's widow as Kynareth," Sionis prompted her as if she was a child, "but here in Skyrim, she's more known as …"

"Kyne." The assassin answered loudly and highly annoyed.

"Right! And another word for a garden might be …"

Her eyes widened as she realized the epiphany to which her companion had just slow-walked her.

"Grove." She breathed. "The garden of Kynareth is Kyne's Grove. Kynesgrove."

"Exactly!" Sionis nearly shouted. "Obviously, it's not 100% certain, but …"

"It's one hell of a coincidence if one of those three isn't the one we're trying to follow." She finished for him.

"Indeed." The mage replied.

"Looks like we're off to Kynesgrove then." Sable announced. "Get packed. We're leaving today." Her eyes then fell upon a long thin box sitting on the desk lengthwise against the wall. "What's that?"

Sionis looked to where she pointed and nearly fell out of his chair. When he had made the purchase, the thought of Sable receiving such a fancy and beautiful grown made him giggle and it had been worth it. But after last night, embarrassing her with his lame prank was the last thing he wanted to do.

"It's … uh … it's nothing." He gasped, floundering to get out of his chair and get to the package before she could.

He failed miserably. The swift assassin had it in her hands before he could get fully upright.

"Is this a dress box?" She asked as she turned back toward him. She had a queer look in her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was hopeful, fearful, or something else entirely that he couldn't read.

"Yes." The mage answered weakly.

"What are you doing with a dress box?" Sable questioned, her strange countenance intensifying.

"Well … I … umm … what am I doing …"

"Is this for me?" She asked before he could finish stumbling his way through a response.

He said nothing for a long moment and it almost seemed that he was now looking at a little girl to whom no good thing had ever been given. She seemed rather afraid to hear the answer regardless of what it would be.

Finally, he nodded. "Yes," he answered quietly. "I got it for you." His guts churned and he felt horrible. She had treated him so tenderly and gently and had kept a vigil over him and thus far there was no indication that she thought any less of him and he was about to repay her kindness and compassion with a farce meant to fluster and humiliate her.

"You got me a dress?" The disbelief in her voice made him want to stab himself with one of her daggers.

"Yes," was all the mage could say.

She gingerly set the box down on the bed and opened it slowly.

Sable gasped and could barely lay the lid down next to the box. Her hands were trembling as she ran her fingers along the silky material. Her eyes drank in the rich purple color. She said nothing for an excruciatingly long time.

Finally, she looked back to Sionis and he watched as a single tear rolled down her right cheek. Suddenly, she grabbed the lid, snapped it back on the box, and ran from the room with it tucked securely under her arm.

Sionis sank back down into his chair and dry washed his face with is hands. A few minutes later, he heard loud irregular thumping sounds coming from his companion's room next door. He sighed and cursed himself for what he did. He was certain his imagination was correct when he pictured her hurling daggers at her new ridiculously expensive practice target. A moment later, he stood and began packing his belongings. There was no way to take back what he had done so it was best to just move on and hope she would still speak to him as they made the long trek to Kynesgrove.


	26. Chapter 26

Upon feeling a tug at her apron, Hulda looked down to see a brown haired little girl. Despite the busyness of the evening, the proprietor of The Bannered Mare knelt down to face the young girl.

"I'm looking for my mama," the girl stated before Hulda could ask her what she needed. "Have you seen her?"

"I'm not sure, child." The innkeeper replied, somewhat at a loss. "Can you tell me what she looks like?"

The child nodded. "She's tall, like you," she answered. "And very pretty," she paused thinking a bit. "And she likes to where a plain blue dress when she goes out."

Hulda frowned. With the fact that The Bannered Mare was the only true inn in Whiterun, it was the most popular place among the city's citizens to spend time. She saw dozens of patrons each night. Even more so when the caravans or legion soldiers came through. But she was determined to help the poor girl.

"Can you tell me anything else about her?" Hulda asked.

The girl frowned and simply replied. "I don't know."

"Hmm … does your ma have anything noticeable about her, like a scar?" The innkeeper asked hopefully.

"No," came the simple reply. "At least none you can see when she has clothes on."

"I see," Hulda wondered, "What about a tattoo? Does your ma have a tattoo?"

The girl shook her head.

"My dear child, there must be something else you can tell me about your ma." Hulda said gently. "I see a lot of people in my inn every day. So many that, sometimes, they all look the same. Is there anything about her that is different from other people?"

The girl just shrugged.

"Let try it this way." Hulda finally started after an exasperated sigh. "Is your ma a Nord, like me?"

The girl nodded.

"Does she have brown eyes, or blue?" The innkeeper asked.

"Blue." The child replied. "But they are very light blue. Like silver."

"What color hair does you ma have?"

"White."

Hulda suddenly straightened. "White?" She asked with a wary expression on her face. "Your ma has white hair?"

"Yes…" The girl drew the single word out, almost as if she seemed to dread answering the question.

"Child, it's been almost a fortnight since your mother was here." Hulda explained. The feeling of worry and almost fear was creeping up her spine and it was made worse by the fact that the girl's look of panic lasted only an instant before it was replaced by one of calm curiosity.

"Do you know where my mama went?" The child asked in a matter of fact manner that the innkeeper found quite strange. Wouldn't a child be in a full blown panic by now?

"No, child," She answered. "I'm afraid I don't know where they went after she left my inn."

The girl's face scrunched up in thought. "Was there a man with her?" she finally asked.

"Yes, there was. Quite the striking fellow he was."

"Did you hear anything about what they talked about?" The child asked after another brief bout of thinking.

It was Hulda's turn to think. It had been almost two weeks ago that the girl's mother had stayed at The Bannered Mare. She usually did hear snippets of countless conversations and generally paid them no mind unless there was something particularly interesting being talked about. This woman had been one that had piqued her curiosity multiple times in just the span of a night and day. Then it finally came to her.

"Your ma had some interesting things to talk about." She finally answered. "The night she was here, I recall the two of them mentioning some elf mage. Then the morning they left I heard the man she was with say something about the embassy. I'm guessing they were talking about the Thalmor Embassy, but who knows."

The girl's face lit up with excitement.

"Thank you miss." She exclaimed. "Thanks a whole lot."

"Child," Hulda said grabbing the girl gently by her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She answered quite assertively which surprised the innkeeper.

"Are you sure?" She pressed despite seeing angered annoyance flash in the girl's eyes. "Are you going to be okay without your ma?"

The brown haired girl delayed a bit before eventually answering. "Don't you worry. I'll be fine. I have our house servant with me."

"Your house servant?" Hulda asked struck somewhat dumb. This encounter was getting weirder by the minute.

"Yeah, she's over there." The girl pointed across the common room to a Dunmer woman sitting quietly and alone in a chair near the stairs up to the rooms. A look of confusion and anxiety passed across her face before she waved back at the child pointing her out.

"She can take care of you?" The innkeeper questioning skeptically.

"She uses magic." The child whispered with a smile.

"Okay, I guess." Hulda finally let go of the child and stood. "Good luck finding you ma."

And with that, she turned back to the bar to see to her neglected patrons. The little girl threw a quick wave to her dark elf companion before walking out of the tavern.

Babette had only been outside a moment when she felt a strong hand grip her shoulder. She turned to see a rugged looking Nord man looking down on her with eyes full of concern.

"I overheard your plight in there, little one." He stated in a friendly, but concerned tone. "I would like to come with you and help you in your search."

"Who are you?" The child vampire asked, now aware her ruse with the innkeeper had been a little too convincing.

"Taldir is my name," the big man replied, "I'm a guard here in Whiterun."

"How would you be able to come with me?" Babette put the innocent child act back on. "Don't you have to stay here and guard things?"

Taldir smiled. "No, I have been placed on a leave for a fortnight after recovering from my injury." He offered, then continued when he saw a doubting look cross the child's face. "But, don't you worry. I can still fight and protect you if need be. I just walk with a slight limp is all."

"A limp?" Babette asked. "What happened to you?"

He made a brief noise that seemed part growl and part scoffing. "Was out clearing a hole of bandits just north of the city. One of the Oblivion damned vermin shot me with his bow. Took the arrow in my knee."

Babette let out gasp of surprise, playing her part well.

"Not to worry, little one," he assured her. "A strong throw from my axe split his head cleanly, it did."

The tiny assassin couldn't help but smile at that. The guard, misinterpreting her expression, smiled back at her and mussed her hair. Babette to fight the urge to rip his hand off at that. She might have failed, but just then, the door to the inn opened and Gabriella joined her. The Dunmer was just about to say something when she saw Taldir standing next to Babette and stopped, her mouth hanging open for a moment.

"And who's this you've met, child?" She asked after recovering from her surprise. "You know your mother doesn't want you talking to strangers." Gabriella added in an attempt to disentangle her child-looking friend from whatever hanger-on had attached himself to her.

"Bah, I just introduced myself to the child." The man replied with a dismissive wave at Gabriella. "I am called Taldir. I've offered to help this poor girl find her missing mother."

"Indeed." Gabriella returned unimpressed.

"And he is a guard!" Babette exclaimed with child-like exuberance. "Won't he be so helpful?"

"If he's a guard, my dear, I'm sure he'll have to stay here and see to his duties." Gabriella replied.

To her surprise, Babette shook her head empathetically. "No, he can come with us because he is on leave for the next fortnight! Isn't that great!?"

Gabriella's eyes went wide in shock. She recovered a moment later and hoped it wasn't seen by the stranger. The look in her vampire friend's eyes told the dark elf that she didn't think it was great at all. If anything Babette was greatly annoyed and wanted him gone.

"I … I appreciate your offer, Taldir," the dark elf started, "but I'm sure we'll be fine as long as we keep to the roads."

"Nonsense." The big man blurted out. "Have you not heard of the strange monsters roaming about attacking people? Not even the roads are safe. I won't take no for an answer."

"Why not?" Gabriella shot back a bit more curtly than she wanted.

"Because I would hate to see this poor child be sent to Honorhall if her mother can't be found." Taldir replied. "I hate to say it, but the authorities probably wouldn't look to you as a valid caretaker, miss. I know, myself, what befell the children that were sent to that orphanage. That witch, Grelod, was running it when I grew up there and I was quite glad when I got the news she'd been murdered. Please, let me help you and the child. Even with it in better, kinder hands, I'd much rather see a child reunited with her mother than be sent there."

Both women were at a loss and both were very irritated. There was no way they could allow an average citizen into The Family's business, but it was clear they weren't going to talk this one out of his desire to muddle in the Dark Brotherhood's affairs. There was only one thing to do now. They had to get rid of him.

"Alright, Taldir, I thank you for your help." Gabriella consented. "We must resume our search as soon as possible."

The Nord looked round at the sky. "Night will soon be upon us." He stated. "We shall have to wait til tomorrow. Come! You can stay with me tonight. I am the only one in the infirmary wing of the barracks so there will be plenty of room. And I'll be able to get my sword as well."

Gabriella gave Babette a questioning look at the mention of the infirmary wing. The false-child answered with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. And cried "Yippeeee!" as she turned to follow the off-duty guard to his lodgings.

* * *

Sable ducked under the claws of the creature, spun, and popped up behind it, planting both daggers into its emaciated form. It crumbled to dust as it fell to the ground. There was no time to admire her victory as another came rushing at her. The assassin reversed her grip on her elven daggers and launched herself at the impending assailant. She crashed into it bringing it to the ground and immediately got up to find another target. That one already disintegrating; two dagger shaped holes where its thin beady eyes used to be.

There was a flash of light and a loud cracking sound, evidence that her mage companion had joined the fray. A second later, there was another flash and crack and this time a bolt of lightning shot by her, blasting one of the spiked monsters off its feet. Another took a swipe at her and lost its hand for the effort. Sable spun low and swept its feet out from under it and put her blades into its chest three time in the blink of an eye. She was gone, moving on to the next target before it had finished vanishing back to Oblivion.

As she weaved and danced through them, it occurred to her that she had not yet seen a pack of them this large. While they were easy enough to dispatch, she would begin to tire soon and would be overwhelmed. She had no idea how long Sionis' magic would last but figured there was a limit to that too. Then she heard her companion's voice call out to her. She turned to see him standing with both hands thrust out before him, palms together fingers splayed out wide, shooting ice from them, freezing solid any of the creatures that got close enough.

"Come to me," he called. "Come through the wall, but do not break it."

At first she was confused by that statement, but then she saw that the frozen creatures were beginning to form a makeshift barrier around him.

Yet another of the fiends came at her, howling as it charged. As soon as it was in range, it swiped its clawed hand at her. The assassin blocked with the hilt of the dagger in her left hand, but also caught hold of its skinny arm as she did. In the next moment, she stepped under and then behind the captive limb, twisting it as she did so, and brought the blade in her right hand down on to it just below its shoulder. The quicksilver blade never stopped as it completed its arc, severing the creature's arm effortlessly. The minor daedra howled again, though this time in pain. The howl was cut short a moment later as Sable freed its head from its shoulders and then took off at a dead run for her companion.

She slashed and stabbed as she went, hoping, but not knowing if she killed any. Her only thought was to get to Sionis. A second later, she was at the menagerie of – now – crystal monsters. She danced through it quite easily and then found herself standing beside her companion.

"There are too many of them." He stated simply.

"Tell me … something I don't … know." She huffed between breaths. "I've … never seen … a horde this big … before."

"I have." Sionis replied. "I can win this fight for us."

"That sounds good." Sable countered. "Let's do your idea."

"The spell is an intense one. I need a moment to prepare it." He finished with a pointed look at her.

"I get it." She said. "I need to be your bodyguard while you get ready."

Sionis nodded.

"Alright, but just this once." She said in mock frustration. "And only this once."

By now the chipping sound of ice breaking as the fiends began working their way through the barrier reached them.

"Whatever we are going to do, it needs to be now." Sable stated.

"I will need you to follow my instructions immediately and perfectly." Sionis said firmly. "You must trust me."

Sable felt a surge of anger and at being directed by the mage in such a manner. She never gave up power over herself to another in the way he just asked her to do. But as the howls of the creatures began to ring out again, she fought her every instinct and pushed her anger down and gave him a simple nod.

Turning around, she holstered her daggers and took her bow from her shoulder. She nocked an arrow, drew the bow string and waited for first target to appear.

She didn't have to wait long. Only a moment later, the ugly tusked face of one appeared through a crack in the grotesque wall. She fired. The arrow buried itself into the monsters head and it fell with a shriek and disintegrated. Immediately another appeared. The white-haired assassin grabbed another arrow and fired. She missed. A second later, a shriek told her the arrow had found a mark further back.

Sable fired again and took down her intended target this time. But another crack from the ice breaking signaled that there were now two targets to the worry about. She fired twice, as quickly as she could. She killed neither of them. One took an arrow in its shoulder; the other came on unscathed.

Just then she heard ice breaking to both her left and right. Quick glances to each side showed her that there were impending breaches from those directions as well.

"Anytime Sionis!" She called as she dropped her bow and rushed to her right with her daggers drawn. She slashed the throat and chest of the one coming through and then dashed back the other way, just as the last vestiges of the wall were broken in front of where she had been standing. Three of the fiends came barreling though. A moment later, she slammed into all three, daggers in a blur of action. Another moment later, they all began crumbling.

She looked up to see holes opening up all across the hedge of ice statues.

"Sionis!" She screamed.

She was about to run to meet the next group of daedra when she finally heard the mage call out.

"Now Sable! Drop!"

Unable to simply halt herself from being in a dead run, the curvy assassin threw herself backwards in a skid, landing on her back with a thud. As soon as she hit, she heard the loudest clap of thunder in all her life. It stole her sense of hearing and left her with nothing but a ringing silence. But she saw it. A tendril of lightning as big around as a large tree trunk shot over her. What was left of the wall of ice exploded when the lightning hit it. Sable shielded her face with her arms for a moment, then watched as the column of death tore through the monsters. It was breathtaking as it swept from side to side, instantly vaporizing any fiend it touched.

After a few moments, there wasn't a daedra to be found and then it was gone just as abruptly as it had come. Sable scrambled to her feet and looked back to Sionis in sheer, unbridled astonishment.

"That was amazing." She muttered in awe of what he had done, and then added under her breath so he couldn't hear. "You're amazing."

"I should … heal you cheek." Sionis answered through gasps for breath.

It was only then that Sable began to feel the intense pain running through the left side of her face. She reached up and touched it. She pulled back with a wince and saw blood running down her gloved fingers. A piece of shrapnel from the improvised barrier of frozen daedra had slipped through her arms and found her cheek.

Sionis brought his hands up to her face and a warm golden light filled them and then poured into her face. The assassin sucked a breath through gritted teeth at the agony of her skin knitting back together under the direction of the healing magic.

A few minutes later, her companion took his hands away.

"There, all better." He declared. "Doubt there will even be a scar."

"Ha! It would be a shame to mar such perfection." Sable mock boasted with a laugh and a smile.

"Indeed it would." Sionis agreed under his breath so she couldn't hear.

"Come on," she called back to him as she walked away, oblivious to his remark. "We should see if we can find the horses and get on our way again."

Sionis sighed as he trotted to catch up with her.

* * *

Some time later, they were riding at an easy trot on the road to Whiterun. The attack notwithstanding, they had made good time since leaving Solitude, being just outside of Morthal two days later.

"So that was better than Morthal?" Sionis asked about the battle, questioning a statement his companion had made just before leaving the town earlier that morning.

"As I said earlier," Sable asserted. "Anything is better than being in Morthal. It's the armpit of Skyrim." Then she added with just a hint of a smile. "Though I did meet a nice guard there once."

"I see," was all the mage had to say.

"What are those things, anyway?" The assassin asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know what they are called," Sionis answered, "but I'm certain they are some kind of servant of Boethiah. I first saw them right after I killed Naga. From reports I've heard, they began terrorizing Skyrim in general shortly after that. Since Naga was connected with Beothiah, I assume - with a fair degree of certainty - that they are from him."

"Boethiah's servants?" Sable echoed. "How would her minions be getting onto the mortal plane?"

"That, I don't know. But I know mage in Windhelm that would probably know. I can try to pay him a visit when we get there." The mage answered and they rode in silence for some time after that.

Sionis couldn't help pondering his companion's behavior. Her reaction to the dress he'd bought was strange. And not only had she packed it with her for the trip, but she was quite cheerful towards him ever since. He couldn't figure out what it was exactly, but he was sure that she was setting him up for some kind of retribution somehow. He'd tried to apologize, but she had laughed him off and told him there was nothing for which to apologize. And here he was out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but his thoughts and wishing he had never bought that Oblivion-damned dress.

* * *

"So, he turned out to be a screamer." The child stated as she sat a careful distance away from the campfire.

"Yes, he did." Her Dunmer companion agreed.

"Honestly, I didn't figure him for that."

"No, he didn't seem the type. Do you feel better now?"

"Yes!" the child beamed. "It had been quite a while since I had my last."

"I know," the dark elf woman replied. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"I am. It didn't hurt anything that he tasted quite good either."

"He did?"

"Yes, he was in good health and getting it fresh is always better than the artificial stuff."

"I see."

"And I'm glad we decided to cut across the plains instead of keep to the roads." The little girl added upon realizing there was no other conversation forthcoming from her friend.

"Oh?" the Dunmer questioned. "I thought you'd want more opportunities for meals."

"That's what I thought too," the child answered. "But I was getting tired of all the looks and questioning."

"Tired of being seen and treated like a child?" The woman mused while poking the fire.

"Yes!" The child exhaled. "And, at least this way, we don't have to worry about anymore would-be do-gooders trying to tag along."

"No, just have to worry about all the hostile and carnivorous Skyrim wildlife."

"You mean like spiders?"

"And skeevers."

"And trolls!" The girl almost yelled.

"Oh my, I hate trolls." The dark elf snapped. "The only good thing about them is setting them on fire. And even then you get the stench of burning troll fat."

"And don't forget The Hunger." The child reminded her.

"Indeed. Tell me, what other advantage was there to cutting across the country instead of staying on the main roads?"

"We're trying to catch up to Sable and stop her from killing herself by taking on a Daedric Lord, remember? We started out about a week behind her. We've got to make up whatever time we can."

"Ah, yes. That's right." The Dunmer sighed. "Tell me something, sister. Would we be out here breaking ourselves over any other member of the Family?"

"Of course." The child replied emphatically. "Though no other member of the Family would actually accept a contract on a Daedric Prince." The dark elf nodded her head in agreement before her friend continued. "But, yes I would be out here for any brother or sister. Wouldn't you?"

"Yes." The woman replied sincerely, before a playful smile crept onto her face. "Except for maybe Festus."

"What!?" The girl cried out. "How can you say that? He's like the overly cranky uncle I never had."

"My friend, I think he's old enough he could have actually been your uncle."

"Perhaps." The child said after a laugh. "Seems bitterness preserves one just as well as vampirism does."

"Probably so." The Dunmer managed to say in between fits of laughter.

"Do you think we'll catch up to her?" The dark elf asked when the laughter finally died down.

"I hope so," the girl shrugged. "But you know how she is."

"Yes," the woman agreed. "She is rather determined isn't she?"

"Mmm … as mistress is so fond of saying, 'quite the overachiever'." The child replied.

"Do you think she can really do it?" The dark elf asked.

"Do what? Kill Boethiah?"

"Yes."

"I would say no. No one can kill a Daedra Lord."

"But Sable would try. She would die trying."

"And if that happens," the girl answered venomously through gritted teeth, "I'll kill that wretched mage for even putting the idea into her head. I'll tear him apart with my bare hands!"

"I guess we'd better hurry then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings. We're getting closer and closer to a confrontation with a Daedric Prince. I already have plots ideas and outlines forming for the next tale, so even though we will probably be reaching the end of this book within the next few chapters, fear not. There will be more coming afterwards. I do hope you have enjoyed reading Sable's tale. Feel free to leave comments. I love hearing from you.  
> \- E. K.


	27. Chapter 27

"They are called The Hunger." Wunnferth the Unliving explained, his gravelly voice somewhat muffled by his massive beard. "They are the favored servants of Boethiah, the Prince of Plots."

"I had figured they were servants of Boethiah, though I didn't know their name." Sionis answered. "Is there anything else you can tell me about them?"

"It is said that their bite will unmake even the strongest and most well-made armor, though I have never witnessed it." The older of two mages said. But then his expression changed and he asked, "How is it you knew the origin of these creatures, but not their name?"

"I may have a personal interest in The Prince of Plots." The dark-eyed mage answered somewhat meekly.

"Ah," Wunnferth breathed with a look of warning upon his face. "My friend, no good ever comes from consorting with the Daedric Lords."

"I know!" Sionis cried, nearly shouting before regaining his calm. "I know, Wunnferth. But it's personal. I can't let it go."

"It's personal? What do you mean?"

"Clairiss." The younger mage answered in a whisper. "She was taken from me and her body desecrated. And Boethiah is the one responsible."

"You're after revenge!?" The old court mage asked incredulously. "And just what do you intend to do to a god?"

"I'm sorry, but it's better that you not know." Sionis answered. "I'll understand if you won't help me any longer, but I've made my decision and I must see it through."

"Sionis, I will not condone whatever it is you have set your mind to do," the older mage replied. "But I will always help you if I can. If there is anything else you need, just ask."

"Thank you, my friend." The younger man sighed.

Wunnferth stood with a kind smile and walked with the young man to the great doors of The Palace of the Kings, saying nothing. Sionis was grateful for that. He wasn't sure there was anything more to say. The comfort of his quiet support was enough at that moment.

The dark-blonde mage stepped out into a blustery day, the wind blowing snow in every direction. He quickly made his way to Candlehearth Hall, the large inn that stood as the first sight that greeted one as they came through the main gates of Windhelm. It was time to return to Sable to prepare for the last leg of their dangerous – most likely suicidal – journey.

* * *

Sable felt uneasy being back in Windhelm. Last time she'd spent any time in the cold, snowy city, she had attended a fancy ball thrown by Ulfric Stormcloak and stolen a very valuable broach from the Jarl of Falkreath. Afterwards, she had quite possibly riled up a key contact for the Thieves Guild. While it was rather unlikely, she always thought that everybody had that queer look of recognition in their eyes. She wanted simply to stay the one night they had agreed upon and then stock up on whatever supplies they thought might be needed and leave.

And so she pulled at the hood of her cloak constantly, making sure it obscured her face as much as possible. She made her way through the Stone Quarter, to where the outside market lay. Per her arrangement with Sionis, she was supposed to secure their rooms at Candlehearth Hall, but she had a quick errand to run.

Shortly after she ascended a small series of steps, the street opened into a wide courtyard that contained a handful of merchant stands. She made straight for the blacksmith working at his forge which stood at her immediate right.

"Excuse me." She called over the din of his hammering.

The large bald man looked up from his work and pulled his apron up to wipe the sweat from his brow. When he finally put it back he gave her a forced smile through a rather blonde beard and then addressed her.

"What can I help you with, lass?"

"What can you tell me about these?" Sable asked showing him the pair of elven daggers she had taken from the Thalmor Embassy.

"Those are elven daggers," the man stated simply, "They are made from refined moonstone and quicksilver. Pain in the backside to craft too. That's why you don't see very many of them."

"I know what kind of daggers they are." The assassin replied, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.

"Then why in Oblivion are you bothering me about them?" The blacksmith spat.

"There is something different about these." Sable returned. "Can you take a closer look?"

The man sighed with annoyance, but leaned in quite close to look them over.

"They are enchanted," he said a moment later. "You can tell by the faint glimmer that runs across them every so often."

Sable smiled and had to fight to contain a small jump of excitement.

"Can you tell me what the enchantments are?" She asked hopefully.

"Nah," the blacksmith shrugged. "I'm a blacksmith, not some fragile spell-flinger."

Sable shot the man a dark look that he never saw as he had already turned back to his work and she fought the urge to use him as a test subject for the enchanted blades.

"If you're that curious," the man remarked a second later, "you could always take them over to Niranye's stall across the way and have her take a look at them with her bedeviled enchanting altar."

"Thank you, for all your help." Sable said a moment later and then turned back down the street to return to Candlehearth Hall. While she wasn't afraid of the high elf, she didn't want any interaction with the thieves' extensive network of contacts. She certainly didn't want them involved in any of her business. She couldn't imagine that the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood were on good terms after the debacle Delvin Mallory had pushed her into.

Moments later, Sable pushed the doors to Candlehearth open and stepped inside. Compared to the stinging wind and snow she had just come out of, the light and warmth of the inn felt almost like a slap in the face. She walked up to the innkeeper and asked for two rooms.

"Sorry, but we only have one available," replied the middle-aged Nord woman behind the bar. "It does have two beds though." She offered after Sable cursed.

"How much?" The white-haired assassin asked with a sigh.

"Ten septims and it's yours for the night." The innkeeper replied.

"Fine." Sable said simply as she counted out the money. "My friend should arrive shortly. He's nearly as tall as me and will be wearing mage robes. Can you please see him to the room?"

The older woman just nodded and then beckoned her newest patron to follow her as she showed Sable to her room.

* * *

It wasn't long before she heard a knock at the door.

"Sable, it's me."

The pale-eyed woman got up and unlocked and opened the door for her companion. He walked in and stopped short when he noticed both beds.

"Only one room for us this time?" He questioned with an arched eyebrow

"It was all they had." She replied.

"I see." He returned, then changed the subject a moment later. "Well, the creatures we've been encountering are called The Hunger. Apparently, they are the favored servants of Boethiah. So it would seem that he is somehow getting them onto the mortal plane, though I have no idea how."

"Do you think killing Boethiah will banish them back to their home plane again?"

The mage shrugged. "It's possible, though I don't know for sure. I would like to think that without their master's power, they would no longer be able to run amok throughout Skyrim."

There was a moment of silence as the two of them just stared at each other. As if they both were searching the other for some sign that the task of killing a Daedric Lord could actually be accomplished.

"Do you know much about enchantments?" Sable asked, finally breaking the quiet.

"Not an area of expertise," Sionis replied, "but I know a little. Why?"

Sable pulled out the ensorcelled blades. "I took these from the embassy," she explained somewhat sheepishly. "The blacksmith here told me they were enchanted."

"They are indeed." The mage confirmed leaning in for a closer look. "They look to be powerful ones as well."

"Can you tell what enchantments they are?"

"No, I cannot." He replied shaking his head. "But I can take them to my friend and have him look at them on his enchanting altar." He offered. "He can tell what enchantments they have on them."

"Would you please?" She asked beginning to titter a bit and thrusting them out for him to take.

"Of course." Sionis answered with a smile.

A smile spread across her face and she just sat there staring him.

"You mean right now?"

The expectant smile grew wider.

"Okay," the mage sighed. "I'll return soon."

Sionis turned and left the room and made his way back towards The Palace of the Kings. He knew it would seem odd to call upon Wunnferth's aid again so quickly, but it couldn't be helped. If he didn't do this for Sable right then, he would probably never hear the end of it until he did actually go and check the enchantments on the daggers. But was that really the reason he so readily agreed to her request? He wondered about his motivation and it didn't seem to be one of annoyance prevention. While he didn't want to admit – certainly not to her – it had given him joy to see her exuberance to have so simple a task accomplished.

He shivered against the snow that was now blowing sideways and quickened his cadence. The sooner he could get this done and take a seat in the warm and cozy inn for dinner, the better.

Once again the guards at the palace said nothing and allowed him into the grand building that towered over the hold city. Sionis went directly for the stairs that led up to the court mage's apartment. He stepped into the open doorway and softly called for his old friend.

"Back already?" The old mage emerged from a corner to Sionis' left, startling him.

"Yes, sorry." Sionis stammered though Wunnferth just shook his head to indicate no apologies were necessary. The younger man collected his breath and continued. "Can you take a look at these daggers with your enchanting altar and tell what they've been imbued with?"

"Certainly." The court mage replied taking the blades and inspecting them. "They look to be powerful enchantments judging from the strength of their glimmering."

"That's what I thought." The dark-eyed mage agreed.

"Let's take a look then." Wunnferth said as he placed one on the altar and bent over and placed both hands just outside the pentagram that was inlaid on the table. Each of the five points contained one symbol from one of the five schools of magic, glowing faintly. A large skull from some awful looking creature was set into the top of the five sided altar. Wunnferth stared into the eye sockets of the skull and suddenly a light blue light flared to life in them. The emblems now glowed much more brightly and the dagger was lifted off of the table and slowly circled and twirled in the air.

A moment later, it set back down and the court mage replaced it with the other blade and performed the minor ritual again, using the magic of the enchanting table to look into the dagger. When finished, he broke the connection and turned a grave stare upon Sionis.

"Where did you get these?" Wunnferth asked in a low tone.

"A friend came by them." The younger mage answer evasively. "In all honesty, you probably don't want to know."

The court mage grunted and held his stare for a moment, but when it became clear that his friend's resolve would not be broken, he sighed.

"The enchantments on these daggers are indeed powerful." Wunnferth finally said. "This one," he continued holding out the dagger with the red shimmer, "has a vampiric property placed into it. It quite literally steals the life of the victim and transfers it to its owner. The drain of life will happen every time the victim is struck. If stabbed and the blade is held inside of them, the drain will be continuous until it is removed." Then, he handed the blade that shown with a deep green light. "This one strikes with an enchantment of paralysis. Anyone inured by this dagger will not be able to move at all for a short period of time. And when I say they can't move, I mean it. They will not even be able to draw breath. These daggers are very powerful and therefore very dangerous. Please make sure they are placed in hands that would not abuse them."

"Thank you, old friend." Sionis said before turning to leave for a second time.

"You – as always – are welcome." Wunnferth said quietly as he watched the younger man go.

* * *

When Sionis returned to Candlehearth Hall, he found Sable seated at a table in the upstairs dining area.

"I've ordered us some stew." She said as he sat down.

Sionis nodded. "My friend was able to identify the enchantments on your daggers." He offered, not seeing much point in discussing the anticipated stew. "They are quite powerful as I thought. The first ..."

"Well, hello there." A purring voice interrupted him.

Sionis turned his gaze to see a blonde Nord woman carrying two bowls of stew. She set them both down in a manner that offered a prolonged view of the ridiculous cleavage her dress allowed.

"Your companion didn't say that her guest would be so enticing." The woman remarked after standing again. The top of her dress was gold colored with a neckline that plunged so low that it left little to the imagination. Below that, a common brown corset held everything laced together and served to accentuate her hips that were nearly visible due to the high slits in the either side of the rustic green skirt she wore.

"I beg your pardon?" Sionis asked completely befuddled.

The woman, apparently their waitress, replied with an over-exaggerated wink before moving on to take the order of another patron.

Sionis turned his baffled look towards Sable who glared into the back of the woman before turning her attention back to him.

"That was … odd." He stated before attempting to resume their conversation. "So, about your daggers ..."

"Is there anything else I can get you?" He was interrupted again by the same cloying voice.

Sionis again turned to see the same woman as before staring straight at him.

"I'm fine, thank you." The mage replied politely.

"Are you sure?" The barmaid asked, again leaning down a bit to give him a better view of the goods she had to offer. "Could I get you something to drink? A mead, or perhaps … something else?"

"Perhaps after my meal." Sionis offered, still not wanting to be rude, but also wanting to return to his conversation with Sable.

"Of course," the woman replied, "We have any number of treats for you to enjoy once you've finished your stew. But if you need anything before then, just call for me. My name is Susanna." She finished before adding in a husky whisper, "Susanna the Wicked." She gave him another wink before leaving again.

"I don't like her." Sable remarked through clenched teeth. "I don't like her at all."

"Hopefully, that's the last we'll see of her for a while." Sionis offered hopefully. But his hopes were dashed just a few minutes later when he heard her voice yet again.

"Here you go, honey." Susanna, purring as sensuously as she could, setting down a large sweet roll next to his stew.

"I didn't ask for this." Sionis replied losing the polite tone in his voice.

"It okay." The barmaid explained. "It's on me."

The mage sighed. "Uh … okay, great."

"And if that's not enough to satisfy your sweet-tooth, I'm sure I can find something even sweeter for you, if you'd like."

"What I'd like," Sionis replied rather curtly, "would be to be left alone so I can eat my meal and talk to my friend."

Susanna just smiled and slunk away into the din of Candlehearth Hall.

"If she comes over here just one more time…" Sable seethed, flailing the women's skin from her bones with her eyes.

"Let's just try to salvage the meal." Sionis entreated his heated companion. "Now, I can tell you about the daggers you found ..."

"Actually," Sable interrupted, "I'll be back in just a moment."

Sionis threw his hands up in the air as she stood and walked quickly from the table, following Susanna downstairs. It didn't take her long to spot the offending barmaid. The assassin stormed up to her target and yanked her around to face her.

"I'll tell you only once," Sable threatened, eyes aflame with rage. "Leave him alone!"

"Why should I?" Susanna retorted ignoring the death filled gaze being shot her way. "I like what I see and I always get what I want."

"Not tonight." The assassin rebuked. "Leave him be. He's not for you."

"And who is he for, honey?" The overly amorous waitress asked cynically. "You?"

The question caught Sable off guard. How did she feel about her mage companion? Did she consider him her own? And did he feel the same about her? She pushed the thoughts aside. Right then, it didn't matter if she knew the answers to those disturbingly vexing questions. The only thing that mattered, right then, was that this harlot would not have him. Susanna, though, took the moment of silence as victory.

"Look," she teased condescendingly, "It's okay to admit that, next to me, he's just not interested in you."

"And at what point has he shown any interest in you?" Sable shot back.

"He'll come around," Susanna announced confidently. "They always do."

"I'm warning you, you tramp," Sable growled. "Leave him alone."

The other woman sighed in mock concern. "I understand your jealous, but try not to be so mad that you don't have anything to offer him." She flicked the material of the rather plain blue dress that Sable was wearing. "But don't worry. I'll treat him especially nice for you."

With that, Susanna the Wicked sauntered off in victory leaving Sable staring down at her clothing, shaking with fury. How dare that woman even insinuate she was superior to her in any way? If she even touched Sionis …

That thought was too much. She'd had enough and she was going to make that hussy pay. She would pay for her insolence and she would pay for even thinking about taking Sionis away from her. The pale-eyed assassin spun and made for her room. There, she would find everything she needed to end that whore's little game.

* * *

All eyes turned towards her as she came into sight, slowly ascending the steps leading to the upstairs dining room. The dress she wore was of a deep purple made from a flowing material that hugged the curves of her body before flowing off of her hips and reaching to her ankles. The low square neckline was trimmed in a satiny material of the same color as the rest of the gown, but the sheen of it drew one's attention, momentarily, to her perfect cleavage. The lavender lace sleeves stayed tight on her arms all the way to her hands wrapping into a ring of the satiny trim that she had slipped the middle finger of each hand through making sure they stayed in place. The dress was completed with embroidery looping down the left side depicting deathbell flowers in a white-silver thread that made the eye travel the entire dress from top to bottom and back again.

She knew, from the turning heads and the quieting of the chatter around her, that she was getting exactly what she needed. And so it was that Sable walked confidently and determinedly to the table where Sionis was sitting, his eyes wide and his mouth agape as watched her approach. Susanna had been standing there with her back to the assassin, once more attempting to get the mage to bow to her whorish charms. But she had his attention no longer. Sable was the only thing he could see in this world and it made her smile and she felt her cheeks begin to flush.

The girlish rush of shyness and bliss evaporated the instant she once again took in her rival. The blonde harlot had still not turned around, but it was clear that she knew her target wasn't paying her any mind as she tried to get him to look at her again.

The captivating assassin walked right up behind the barmaid, never alerting her to her presence and then said, "I thought I told you to leave him alone."

Susanna spun to face her unworthy adversary, anger and irritation twisted across her face for only a moment before it died, giving way to astonishment as she finally beheld the white-haired and stunning woman before her.

Susanna stammered at seeing the assassin so transformed by the simple changing of her dress, though she finally managed to pull herself back into the persona she had built for herself over the years.

"And what do you hope to gain with this pathetic attempt?" The barmaid scoffed almost convincingly. "Won't you be even more embarrassed when your companion stays with me tonight?"

Sable's answer was to look down to the seated mage and see him sitting motionless, still drinking her in with his eyes. She, then, looked all around the room to see plenty of gazes still turned her way.

"I'm not sure very many people in this room still know you're here." The assassin replied in a matter-of-fact kind of tone.

Susanna looked around and almost wondered if she was even visible. The whole room seemed frozen and fixed upon this woman clad in the most wondrous gown she'd ever seen.

"I don't care about them." The barmaid stated with a quiver in her voice that betrayed her attempt to still sound confident. She then gestured toward Sionis. "This one is the only one that matters."

"Well then, let's ask him whose company he would prefer." Sable offered. Not waiting for her opponent to agree or disagree, she turned her attention to her mage companion and asked. "Sionis, which of us would you like to keep you company this evening?"

"Oh … my … Dibella …" He muttered to himself before finally being able to break the trance Sable had put him in. "You, of course, Sable." He said rising to his feet and finding it quite difficult not to reach out and take her hands in his own. "Please rejoin me." He then, finally, looked over to Susanna. "Thank you, I'll call with there is anything else we need with the meal."

Susanna, mortified, spun back to Sable, rage twisting the features of her face into a hideous expression. But before she could say anything, Sable added one last jab.

"I understand your jealous, but try not to be so mad that you don't have anything to offer him." The assassin said flicking her finger against the shoulder strap of the barmaid's all too revealing garb.

Susanna the Wicked now shook with anger and embarrassment. "You ... you wretched horker sow. I'll … I'll cut that frock from your body and … and …"

"You won't touch this dress!" Sable cut her off shouting, before quieting to a threatening hiss. "Or him!"

Quicker than the barmaid's eyes could register, the white-haired woman had a hold of the back of her neck in an iron grip. Susanna's face was then brought uncomfortably close to hers.

"You're not his type." Sable seethed. "Now have I made my point clear? Or do I need to use this?" And suddenly there was the needle-sharp point of a throwing dart so close to the barmaid's left eye that her eyelashes brushed against it.

It was truly frightening how the small, but keen-edged blade had just appeared. And Susanna saw nothing but the promise of pain in the other woman's eyes.

A moment later, despite not getting an answer, Sable let the wench go and smiled a quite satisfied smile as she watched Susanna the Wicked scurry off as quickly as she could.

Sable turned and sat back down at the table she and Sionis shared.

"Now, where were we?" She asked.

"You look so beautiful." Sionis blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Sable blushed and bowed her head to the side in a wave of shyness.

"Thank you, Sionis." She said demurely. "I love the dress."

"You do?" He asked sounding rather incredulous.

"Yes," Sable assured him. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect gift."

"Really?" Sionis was nearly beyond belief. He never would have figured that Sable, an efficient, ruthless, master assassin that really enjoyed her job would love something that seemed so opposite of the persona associated with her profession.

She nodded. "Yes, it makes me look so pretty." The assassin gushed.

"No, it's actually the other way around." The mage said with a shake of his head. "It's you that makes the dress seem so radiant."

Sable blushed again and for moment, Sionis considered kissing her, but a glance to her right elbow held him back. He wasn't sure if anything had changed between them in the couple of weeks since they had started this whole thing, but he was sure that he didn't want another forced nap caused by a painful blow to his temple. And so, in the end, he had leaned just a slight bit toward her, before his doubt had crept in causing him to sit back and look like a fool.

Sable noticed her companion's movement and wondered what his aborted intentions had been. Then she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Then she straightened. What in Oblivion was wrong with her? Why in Oblivion was she acting this way? She never let anyone have this kind of effect on her. And why in Oblivion was it suddenly so damned important that some barmaid not try to gain Sionis' affection? All this had to be put down. She had to regain control over herself and her companion.

The dark-eyed mage saw her suddenly straighten her posture and watched the smile leave her face. He knew the mask was back on; the walls were back up and he could only sigh inwardly as he knew what it meant. Whatever might have been said between the two – whatever glimpse he might have gotten of her soul – was gone. He almost felt sick.

"We should get some rest." She stated with a tone of authority. "We don't have much time before Boethiah's summoning day, so we should be up early tomorrow and make our way to Kynesgrove."

With that, she stood and bade him a good night and started for the stairs that led down to their room.

And in that moment, something snapped in Sionis. He just couldn't take it anymore. He reached out and caught her by the wrist and held her there. A gaze that was filled with shock instantly fell upon him. He stood and blocked her path before letting go of her arm.

"Enough is enough, don't you think?" He asked her, his eyes simmering.

"Get out of my way." Sable said quietly, positively vibrating, but whether it was from rage or fear or something else entirely Sionis couldn't tell.

"No," Sionis said calmly but firmly. "I can't do that until you admit this has gone on long enough."

"What are you talking about?" The assassin questioned, fearing his answer, though knowing what it would be.

"I'm talking about you." The mage answered. "I don't understand why you're doing this. Again."

"I'm not doing …"

"Stop it, Sable." Sionis interrupted and he suddenly looked very tired. "Just. Stop." He paused for a moment, but continued before she could respond. "I don't understand what's so infuriating about sharing yourself with me. Twice now, you've helped me through pain – very deep and very personal pain – that left me open to you. Most recently, you held me through the trauma of a nightmare I would visit on no one. You've seen me with my heart laid open, but you refuse to let me even think about returning that kindness and intimacy."

"I c-can't … I … I can't …" Sable cast her eyes to the ground. When she looked back up at her companion, tears threatened to spill from them. For a long moment she just stared at him and neither said a word. Finally her countenance softened ever so slightly and, barely above a whisper, she conceded to him. "I promise I will listen, but please let me do so in our room."

Sionis nodded and took her hand in his and led her from the dining room.

Moments later, the mage used his magic to light a lamp in their shared room before closing the door.

"Well," she said in an almost accusatory tone, "what do you want from me?"

"I want some honesty." The mage replied. "I want you to be honest with me and with yourself. I want you to tell me why you won't let me in."

Sable sat in thought for several moments. If he didn't understand by now, how was she supposed to explain it? She couldn't let herself give up any part of her. If she no longer had any power over herself, how could expect to exert it over anyone or anything else? He was supposed to be some kind of genius mage. Why hadn't he figured any of this out yet?

She focused back on her companion who was just sitting there looking at her expectantly and sighed.

"I can't." She finally said. "I can't let you in. I wish I could, but I can't. It would be giving up too much."

"What do you mean by giving up too much?" Sionis asked and there was no irritation or accusation in his voice.

"Power." Sable answered with just a word before elaborating. "Everything in this world is about power. The power others hold over you versus the power you hold over others. In everything you do, you're either taking it or giving it up. I can't let you see too much of me or allow myself to feel what I want about you. It would be giving up too much."

The mage took it all in. It took a good while to sort out everything she had said. Was it really that simple? Or was there something more to it that she either didn't admit or didn't realize? In the end, he decided that it was that simple and that he would have to put his answer out there for her, and hope she could – would – take it in and allow it to help.

"It's not power you are always fighting for, Sable." He said. "What you seek is control. I wish you didn't need it so badly, but for whatever reason you fight or kill to have it with every person and every situation. The problem is that you don't actually have any because you're always acting out of fear. You're letting whatever you're afraid of control you." She glared at him, but he continued undeterred. "I've seen you at your best. Like when we first met and you jumped into half-dozen skooma dealers, including two mages, me being one of them. Or during our attempt to take out Cragslane Cavern and the alarm was sounded and we were overwhelmed. Both times, you were breathtaking. In those cases, you were so powerful and great because you knew you were going to die and instead of being afraid of it and running, you took control of your own life and faced it with a true joy and strength.

"Sable, control isn't when you allow the fear to make your decisions for you. Control is standing in the face of the fear and making decisions despite it. Running from it or erecting defenses against it do nothing but make it stronger as it lays siege to your life and soul. Don't be afraid to give of yourself. Just give of yourself on your own terms."

Sable sat there with a look of bewilderment and terror.

"I … I don't know what to do with this." She finally admitted.

"That's okay." Sionis answered. "I'm sure it's a lot to take in. Just think on it. Examine yourself with it thoroughly and then make your decision. I just ask that you don't shut me out because you're afraid of what might happen. Decide how you feel about us and then laugh at whatever your fear of losing control tries to throw at you. Control is about ruling the fear that's there, not letting it rule you."

The only answer she could muster was a weak smile. He smiled back hoping it was an encouraging one and reached out to take her hand. He readied himself for the blow, but it never came. She grasped his hand and held it in both of hers for a moment.

"I still don't know what to do with this." The shaken assassin finally said. "Can you be patient?"

"I will wait as long as you need me to." He assured her before adding. "Within reason, anyway."

She smirked and a short, ragged giggle escaped her. "Thank you, Sionis. Good night."

"Good night." He said with a smile before extinguishing the lamp and throwing the room into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter I really enjoyed writing. We're getting close to the showdown with Boethiah. I think there will be 2 - 3 more chapters. The next chapter will be out soon, but it might take a while to get the following ones. I want them to be as good as I can get them and my time to write has decreased recently. But, don't worry. I will continue and finish this story and more afterwards. Thanks for reading. And feel free to leave comments.
> 
> \- E. K.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments, kudos, and for reading. So glad you are enjoying Sable's tale.
> 
> \- E. K.

Sionis woke abruptly having the feeling that someone was watching him. He looked around the room that was bathed in a soft glow from a single lamp that had been lit and discovered that his feeling had been well founded. Sable was seated next to his bed and was looking down upon him with a smile on her face that he'd never seen. It was not her angry, "I'm about to kill you" smile, nor was her mischievous, "I know something you don't smile." This one showed a sincere warmth in it and it grew when she noticed he was awake and it was frightening.

"Sable? Sable, what are you doing?"

In response, the assassin tenderly placed both hands on the sides of his face and continued to gaze at him for a moment. It was then that he noticed the bags under eyes. She probably hadn't got much sleep that last night. Then her grip became tight and locked his head in her hands. The mage tensed and his eyes went wide. This was it. He had pushed her and now she was going to kill him. She would squeeze his head until his face popped. For a split second, he wondered if that was really possible.

But it never happened. Instead, she knelt down to him and kissed him gently on his forehead. It lasted for a long moment. Then she kissed him – all too briefly – on the lips before letting him go and standing. She was wearing the plain blue dress again as she always wore in town, though now he could see the tell-tale signs of her Dark Brotherhood leathers underneath it.

"Thank you Sionis." She said simply and quietly before she turned and left the room.

The mage sat there in confusion for a moment before finally sliding out of bed and getting dressed. Several times a long sigh escaped his lips as he wondered about the repercussions of their conversation last night. He kept going over in his head scenarios of what would happen. He knew it was silly to do so, but he couldn't help it. There was going to be some aftermath; he just didn't know what it would be and with Sable, you couldn't ever really be sure about what she would do.

With yet another sigh from yet another scenario ending in his death flying through his head, Sionis cinched down the last knot on his robes and left the room to seek out his companion.

He found her sitting at a table just about to finish off her plate of eggs and sausage. There was a plate full of the same on the table at a chair next to her. As he sat down, she took her last bite and rose.

"I'm going to get some supplies from the alchemist here before we leave." She announced. "Go ahead and eat up. I'll be back soon."

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

The White Phial was quite the alchemy shop. Its owner, an Altmer calling himself Nurelion, was surly enough to cause Sable to finger the hilt of her dagger hiding underneath her dress, but knew his craft well and had nearly every type of concoction one could imagine. She stayed her hand though as the high elf's apprentice never left him alone, constantly badgering him about his health. For his part, Nurelion constantly kept him scurrying off after some ingredient or another in an attempt to have a moment's peace from the excessive doting of the younger Imperial. She also figured from his frequent fits of coughing that it was only a matter of time before the world no longer had to put up with the ill-tempered alchemist. So she reigned herself in and focused on his wares.

A short while later, Sable parted with every septim she had left and carried a small bag full of healing potions out of the shop. She kept her head down and hurried her way back to the Candlehearth Inn grumbling to herself about the Altmer proprietor of The White Phial. The high elf had absolutely and vehemently refused to even consider thinking about changing the prices of his potions. While she had never been successful at haggling, it still made her think about her dagger as a solution to dealing with the man.

The assassin swept into Candlehearth and cast her gaze, momentarily, over the downstairs dining area. Not seeing Sionis, she headed straight for their room. She found him there reading over Naga's journal. He looked up as she entered.

"All ready to go?" He asked.

"Soon." She replied setting the bag of potions on her bed.

"What's all that?" The mage asked.

"Healing potions," Sable answered. "I figured if we were going to kill a god, they might come in handy."

"I see," Sionis replied. "Did you buy out the entire stock of the alchemy shop?"

"Actually no," Sable returned with a half snarl. "The old codger running the place refused to bargain. However," she added her voice returning to normal, "I did spend my very last septim buying all that I could, so you're funding the rest of this venture with whatever you have leftover."

"Seeing how we have only two days left, I think I can manage that." He returned, then paused a moment before changing the subject of conversation. "Sable, I want to talk about last night."

She rounded on him, facing him and settling a stony gaze on him. "No." She answered with finality.

The mage opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off before he could actually speak.

"No, Sionis." She said. "I'm not talking about it right now. I'm not sure I slept at all last night because I realized that you were right about a lot of what you said. I still need time to work that out for myself. So, no more for now."

Sionis fought through several thoughts and emotions trying to figure out what to say before finally settling on "Fair enough."

Sable's face softened and she gave him a small nod as if to thank him. "Let's get packed up and headed toward Kynesgrove. Hopefully whatever is there can point us to where Boethiah's shrine is and hopefully it's not more than a half a day's travel from there."

"I'm waiting on you actually." Sionis said and a smirk appeared on his face when she looked up at him to see him with is pack slung over his shoulder ready to walk out of the door.

With a sigh, she returned to shoving everything in her pack.

“While you’re doing that, may I tell you about the enchantments on your daggers?”  The mage asked.  “I was going to last night, but that barmaid kept interrupting.”

“Ooh, yes!”  Sable exclaimed, her voice almost like a child about to get a present before it changed to one of near panic.  “You still have them, right?”

Sionis chuckled.

“Yes, I have them here,” he said pulling them from one of the many pockets in his robe.  “This one,” he handed one over to her, “steals the life from whoever is cut or stabbed with it.  It steals the victim’s life and confers it to you.  That drain is continuous for as long as the blade is held in your adversary.”

Sable’s eyes opened wide with awe as she took the blade from him.

“I didn’t even know such a thing was possible,” she breathed.

“This one,” the mage continued, “is enchanted with paralysis.  When struck, it will render the victim paralyzed for a short time.”

“Really!?”  The assassin exclaimed with glee.

“When I say it will paralyze the person, I mean it, Sable.”  Sionis warned.  “The paralysis is complete.  They will not be able to draw breath; their blood will stop flowing through them.  The enchantments on these daggers are very powerful and very dangerous.”

“They’re wonderful,” Sable whispered, her voice full of reverence as she packed them carefully in her pack.

Sionis sighed, but found he couldn’t help smiling at seeing her so happy and awestruck all at once.

As Sable finished up, the gorgeous dress that Sionis had bought her was packed last and with great care so as to ensure it wouldn’t be damaged.  When she finished, Sable grabbed up both packs and left the inn with Sionis.

* * *

There wasn't much to Kynesgrove; just a large, two-story – three stories if you counted the basement that was partially above ground – building that seemed to serve as an inn. At first, Sable didn't see how the tavern – as large as it was – could hold the sheer number of people that were bustling around the place. With just the one building, she wasn't sure she could call it a town anymore.

"This is it? This is Kynesgrove?" Sable asked her companion. "There's nothing here."

Sionis chuckled. "Kynesgrove is a mining community. The inn is only here for passing visitors. Most the people you see here probably live in Windhelm and come here to excavate malachite from the nearby mine."

"Interesting." She muttered in response before looking his way and adding in a clear tone, "And this is where those Thalmor mages were sent and disappeared?"

"Correct." The mage answered. "They were sent here to investigate the dragons coming back."

"What does this place have to do with dragons?" She asked skeptically.

"No idea." Sionis replied. "I've stayed at the inn once, but that's it. Never looked around the area further."

"Excuse me," Sable caught the attention of a woman making her way from the inn to the massive garden enclosed in a fence on her left. "What does this place have to do with dragons?"

"Ah," she sighed with a smile, "you must be interested in the site then."

"The site?" The assassin questioned.

"Yes, the dragon burial mound up above Kynesgrove." The woman elaborated. "It's attracted a number of people wishing to see it ever since the dragon buried there came back to life."

"The dragon," Sable began a bit disbelieving, "the dead dragon came back to life?"

"Aye, it did." The apparent gardener replied enthusiastically. "It proved to be quite the morning for the dull life of Kynesgrove."

"I would think so." The curvy assassin stammered, secretly beginning to question the sanity of her informant.

"If it hadn't been for the Dragonborn being here, the town would have been destroyed. But he put the beast back down. The skeleton of the thing is still up there to this day. Haven't quite figured out what to do with it yet." The woman finished with a short chuckle thinking the whole thing quite amusing. "And ever since, all kinds of people of have come here to see it. The inn's been busier ever since. You'd think Iddra would be happier."

"Lots of people visiting?" Sionis jumped into the conversation. "Any Thalmor come to see it?"

The woman's face instantly darkened. It was clear that Altmer mages had been here and that it hadn't been pleasant. "Aye, there were some that came here," she spat. "And good riddance after the trouble they caused."

"What happened?" The mage questioned.

"Not that anyone was happy to have them here, but all of the sudden, one of them went crazy and murdered his companions before running off in the middle of the night." The woman explained clearly still disturbed by the incident. "Didn't discover it until the next morning when I found the bodies in the room. Iddra still won't rent the room to anyone. Says it's cursed."

"Do you mind if we go up and see the dragon?" Sionis asked wanting to change the conversation before her mood soured to a point that she became suspicious and drove them off.

"Of course." She answered brightening back up a bit. "It's just above The Braidwood," she pointed to the inn behind her, "just follow the path."

"Thank you." Sable offered. "We won't keep you further."

"Oh, it wasn't a bother." She replied before resuming her trip to the inn's garden.

Sable and Sionis turned to each other.

"That was interesting." She said with a hint of incredulity.

"Very." The mage agreed. "Shall we head up to the dragon and see if we can find anything?"

"Honestly, I'm more interested in that room in the inn, there." Sable replied.

"As am I, but being this close and with so little time we should check everything," Sionis pressed. "We can't afford to miss anything."

"I suppose not," the assassin sighed. "Let's go."

* * *

The dragon burial mound and its accompanying skeleton, while impressive, had not yielded anything useful. Truly the beast had been huge and it was quite a sight to behold, but there had been nothing to find except a few blackened rocks.

Sionis held the door to the Braidwood Inn open for Sable as she stepped through. They had to resist the urge to run back down the mountainside to the inn for both were now anxious to see this "cursed" room that had housed the mage they were posthumously tracking in order to find the whereabouts of a shrine to Boethiah large enough to summon her.

She stood at one end of a large rectangle ringed by wooden columns supporting the upper floor. The space between the columns and the walls were filled with tables and chairs as there was a massive fire pit – in the same rectangular shape – providing warmth for the entire large building in the middle of the main hall. Sable turned to her left and walked by it and beyond to the bar where a dark-haired Nord woman had been watching them approach.

"Good day," she offered the pair. "Welcome to the Braidwood Inn. I'm Iddra. Let me know if you need anything."

"Good day," Sable repeated back to the innkeeper, "We'd like to rent a room for the night please."

"I have several available," the brunette perked up. "Just ten septims."

Sable then looked around her and noticed that there were rooms to either side of her. On the left, open doors showed two single person rooms, each with one bed and the standard assortment of furnishings. A single closed door was the only thing to be seen to her right.

"Is that room available?" She asked the innkeeper.

Iddra's countenance immediately darkened. "I'm sorry," she replied with shaky politeness, trying to recover from the momentarily scowl that had crossed her face, "but that room is unavailable."

"Why?" The assassin asked innocently despite knowing full well the reason.

"The room's cursed." The innkeeper said bluntly and warningly. "I can't rent that room to anyone."

"How is it cursed?" Sable pressed still sounding sweetly innocent.

"A while back, some Thalmor mages rented it out. While they were here, one of 'em must have went crazy because he killed both of his companions and ran off up the mountainside." She paused briefly, "Well, I assume he killed both though we only ever found the one body. And that's only the last time. The room must be cursed."

Sable was about to respond when Sionis came forward and cut in before she could do so.

"Cursed?" he scoffed. "We don't believe is such silliness as that. I bet your just spreading the story so you can drive up the price of the room." He paused, tilting his head a bit and rolling his eyes upward as if thinking about what he had just said. Meanwhile Sable just stared at him in shock while the scowl had returned to Iddra's face. "Yeah," he finally said a moment later, "it worked. I'll pay you double to stay in the  _haunted_  room." He screwed up his voice as he said 'haunted' to add yet more mockery to his statement.

The innkeeper's eyes narrowed to slits as she stared daggers at him. "I won't rent it for thrice the amount." She spat at him. "Not for any amount. Now, please leave."

Sionis held his hands up, palms turned outward. "Whoa, I apologize," the mage said plaintively, "I came to see the famous dragon mound up above, and honestly I was not impressed, so I guess that was some of the disappointment coming through." He paused for just a moment. "My friend and I are just interested in seeing all the most interesting things we can while we were passing through and I would love the chance to stay in a 'cursed' room and see what it would be like. Would you be willing to rent to us for 100 septims?"

Iddra's eyes went wide for a moment. "You must be crazy or something." She breathed.

The tall blonde man's reply was to plop a large bag filled with gold pieces on her counter. "Do you think this amount could cover a meal or two as well?"

* * *

An hour later, Sable and Sionis had settled into the "cursed" room. By all appearances, it had been completely cleaned and then left to sit for the rest of time. They washing of the room had been thorough as they had not found any blood. Even all the furniture was in its place. If they hadn't known about the room's history, they probably would've decided it was just like any other in which they had stayed. Knowing what they did about it and half expecting it to be covered in dried blood and completely disheveled, actually served to add a heavy layer of surrealism to the atmosphere. The quiet thrummed in their ears and they both felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation.

"Almost feel like I'm being watched," the mage muttered to himself.

"Agreed," Sable returned.

Sionis hadn't meant to engage his companion, but the break in the silence felt uplifting and liberating and he suddenly hoped the conversation would continue. Unfortunately, the overbearing quiet crushed any would be dialogue and they returned to the silent throbbing.

For Sable's part, she was surprised to find how disturbed she was by the room. It did indeed feel like she was being watched, but for her there was something else about the place she couldn't articulate. Despite having been in some rather distressing places – including a dwemer ruin – her mind kept anxiously gnawing at the thought of ransacking the place to find whatever clues were there and then leaving as soon as she could. Perhaps the place really was cursed.

She straightened at that last thought. What was wrong with her? Was there really any such thing as curses or haunted places? She knew about the Divines and the Daedra. She also knew about Sithis and the Night Mother (though she'd been told that the Night Mother had been lost) that watched over and directed the Dark Brotherhood, but she had never had any encounter with any of them. And then, for the first time, she wondered if anything would happen if they managed to find Boethiah's shrine and summoned her.

Her thoughts were broken by a long drawn out sigh from Sionis. He was looking down at the room's only bed. It was a large double bed, but it was the one and only bed nonetheless.

"We should look around the room." She said to break his thoughts away from their sleeping arrangements that were perplexing him. "Hopefully there is some clue still here about how to find and then summon our target."

He turned his gaze upon her and let it linger a moment before answering. "Yes." He nodded. "I'll look through the chest here at the bed. You want to take the end table over there?"

The assassin gave him a polite nod and turned to go to her task, but before she got anywhere, she was interrupted.

"Never mind," Sionis sighed. "The chest is locked. I'll take the end table and you can have the chest."

She again nodded and as they passed each other to go their separate tasks. Sable knelt before the chest and just stared at the lock. The conversation from the previous night swirled back into her head. Was she allowing fear to make decisions for her? She had already thought this question through and answered it a dozen times since their talk, but it kept seeping back in. She was truly afraid of sharing herself with Sionis. Surely some part of her would be lost. Wouldn't he then have at least some stake in what she did? And then a truly terrifying thought entered her mind. Had he said everything he did in a bid to control her? Was it a grand deception to get her do what he wanted of her?

"Well," the mage called out breaking her thoughts, "everything over here is pretty much empty. Did you get that chest open yet?"

Sable's gaze refocused to the wrench and lockpick still resting in her – now – trembling hands. She blew a sigh and insert them into the chest and a moment later the lock clicked and opened.

"Yes." She replied half to herself, "it was tough to sort out."

There was silence as he came over to join her.

"Ready?" She asked holding the lid barely ajar. Again she wondered if she was speaking to her companion or to herself.

"Let's take a look." He affirmed.

With that she lifted the lid. Inside was quite the assortment of items. They found an enchanted staff that Sionis pronounced inert after a short examination. There was a glass dagger and quite a few loose septims – all of these, Sable snatched up and pocketed gleefully. They also came across a full set of Thalmor wizard robes and it was upon their lifting it out of the chest that they found the real prize. Two leather bound books tumbled out of the robes as they lifted them out.

Sionis picked up the one nearest him and found it damaged by fire. The one Sable grabbed seemed in pristine condition. She opened the cover and read the title.

"The Pillow Book." She stated quietly and then a moment later added. "That's odd. All the pages are blank." She looked to Sionis before shrugging and tossing the book up to the bed.

Gingerly, Sionis opened the burned book and then a smile came across his face.

"It appears that Naga had quite the journaling habit." He announced. "I'll get to reading this now and see what I can find out."

"I'll see about getting us a meal." The assassin replied pensively before rising and leaving the room.

* * *

Some time later, Sable re-entered the room carrying a bowl of the inn's "world famous apple cabbage stew" – as Iddra had proudly put it. The assassin set the bowl down on the table nearby the bed. Sionis looked up from the journal as she came in and gave her a small smile.

"It's very good." She simply stated as she set the bowl down. "Find anything interesting?" She face pointed toward the fragile journal in her companion's hands.

"Oh, lots." The mage replied enthusiastically. "This Naga, fellow was quite fascinating. Nothing really useful to us, however. Still fascinating nonetheless."

She simply nodded in reply.

"Still have a number of pages to go though." Sionis offered with a hopeful tone of voice. He turned a page and a small blackened piece crumbled to soot. "If they stay intact, that is."

It was then, that Sable noticed there was nothing else on the bed.

"What happened to the other book?" She asked.

"What other book?"

"The Pillow Book."

"The what book?"

Sable straightened as if smacked in the face. "The Pillow Book." She reiterated. "It was the other book that came out of the chest. Didn't you see it? I mentioned all the pages were blank."

Sionis just started at her with a confused and rather worried look on his face. It was as if she had just told him that she thought frostbite spiders were nice to cuddle with.

"You didn't see it?"

The mage just shook his head slowly.

"You didn't hear me say anything about it?"

Again, he shook his head.

The white-haired assassin blew out a long sigh, completely flummoxed.

"Perhaps you should get some rest." Sionis suggested.

"I'm not crazy." Sable asserted.

"I'm not saying you are," The mage held his hands up plaintively. "Though you are tired."

"I'm not  _that_  tired." She snarled at him and for a moment he just sat there looking at her.

"Do you need to talk?" He offered. "About last …"

"No." She fiercely interrupted before taking a moment to gather herself back in. "Well, yes. I mean … I need to talk about it at some point, but I'm not ready to yet."

"Fair enough." He said understandingly.

"Perhaps I will lie down and try to get some sleep. "

"Do you want me to move?"

"No, it's okay. There's plenty of room."

Sable walked around the bed and laid down, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable for sleeping. Her eyes were just starting to flutter when she heard Sionis gasp.

"By the Divines," he muttered.

Sable rolled over and propped herself. "What is it?" she asked.

"What was the name of that book you mentioned?"

"The Pillow Book."

"Naga mentioned it in his journal." Sionis explained.

"He did?"

"Well the charring is really bad on these last few pages," the mage explained, "so in some places I'm only getting a few words, but right here he mention a special book he used to commune with Boethiah. Look, there is a burn right in the middle of the title of it, but The Pi … ow Book as to be The Pillow Book."

"So you believe me now?" She asked somewhat snidely.

"Indeed," Sionis affirmed. "I apologize I doubted, but where did it go?"

They spent a brief few moments in search of the book, but were unable to locate it. Eventually, they gave up the search and Sable laid down to sleep, while Sionis assured her that he was just going to read a bit more of the burnt journal before joining her for a night's rest.

* * *

"Are you seeking me, mortal?"

The voice was a rather matronly one, though it dripped with malice.

Sable found she couldn't reply. At least not audibly.

_Who are you?_

There was only amused laughter in reply.

"You show potential little one," the voice said. "I could use one like yourself as my champion."

_What do you mean?_

"There is only one thing holding you back." The assassin's vision filled with the image of Sionis sleeping on their shared bed in the Braidwood Inn, the journal open against his chest as he had once again read until he could no longer stay awake. "Kill him. Take his life and I will give you all the power you crave. I will make you a legend. All of Skyrim and beyond will fear you."

_Who are you?_

"I am known by many names and titles, but most commonly, you mortals refer to me as Boethiah."

_Do you know why I am seeking you out?_

"It doesn't matter." Boethiah replied confidently. "I can offer you all you've ever dreamed of. Can you say the same for him?"

_He has helped me. I never would have made it this far without him._

"Helped? Ha! He has nearly got you killed several times. Riften, Cragslane Cavern, on the road to Whiterun. And now he is leading you on a fool's errand to kill me, a Daedric Prince."

She suddenly realized that everything Boethiah had said was true. Since having met him and not taking his life when she had the chance, she had nearly died herself all those times. And did she honestly think she could kill a god?

"And what else has he done for you?" The Prince of Plots pressed. "He makes you doubt yourself. In a moment of confusion, he attacked your ideals and attempted to destroy them. His words have made your sleep fitful and futile. He has taken your edge."

Again Sable realized the truth of Boethiah's words. He had wormed his way into her mind and her life. She had long felt her power over herself slipping where he was concerned. Even when they had separated, she had had trouble keeping him from her mind and focusing. It all lead up to what he had said to her in Windhelm the night before. It had completely undone her. He wasn't just holding her back, he was dragging her down – destroying her very person.

"Everything you've done for him," Boethiah continued, "and he has rewarded you with stagnation, confusion, and self-doubt. Bring him to me and give his blood to me. And I will make you into everything you wish to be."

All the thoughts and feelings that had so troubled her suddenly made sense. Boethiah was right. The mage had to go.

_He shall be yours. How do I find you?_

* * *

Sable's eyes shot open and she found she was panting. It was dark still – with just the faintest amount light peaking in around the edges of the door to their room. With the common area that well lit, it was probably still late evening or early morning. Her head hurt; it felt like it was lying on something hard rather than the soft pillow she had fallen asleep on. She sat up in the bed to find Sionis next to her. He was sleeping in the sitting position he had been in when she dozed off with the book lying open on his chest. He appeared just as he had in her. . . What had it been? A dream? A vision? Had she actually conversed with a Daedric Prince?

On impulse, she felt under her pillow and found something under it. A book. It was a simple leather bound volume with no distinguishing markings.

"The Pillow Book," she whispered into the darkness.

Sionis snorted in his sleep at the damage done to the quiet, but did not wake.

Immediately, Sable thought to grab one her daggers and end him. It would be so easy to cut his throat open and let him bleed out in his sleep. He wouldn't feel a thing.

But then she paused. Boethiah had told her to bring him to her. Boethiah had promised her all the power she wanted, but she would have to be patient. If it was morning, that meant it was the 1st of Sun's Dusk. She could wait one day.

The curvy, pale-eyed assassin slipped out of the bed and smoothed her dress before going to the door of the room. She opened it just wide enough to slip out and left the room with a new resolve.

Iddra looked up and greeted her as she approached.

"Good day." The innkeeper offered.

"It is morning, then?" Sable asked.

"Aye, it is," Iddra replied, "though it is early. The sun is just rising. Did you rest well?"

"I did." Sable answered. "Thank you. Do you think my companion and I might get another meal before we depart?"

Iddra huffed and then shrugged. "Why not?" She said. "If you're crazy enough to offer 100 septims to spend the night in that cursed room, then I don't see any reason why I shouldn't give you a meal for it."

As if on cue, the door to their room opened and Sionis came out trying to rub the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders.

"Is it morning?" He asked through a yawn as he approached.

Iddra rolled her eyes and smiled. "Aye, it is." She answered. "Go have a seat and I'll bring you some eggs and potatoes fried in horker fat."

A short while later, as the two were finishing their breakfast, Sionis looked up and spoke.

"I found some more interesting things in the journal."

"What did you find?"

"The journal mentioned what was needed in order to summon Boethiah to the mortal plane tomorrow." Sionis offered before checking his enthusiasm. "Well, kind of."

"What does 'kind of' mean?" Sable asked with a tone of genuine curiosity.

"The pages in that part of the journal are in pretty bad shape. I'm guessing from a few other clues that he was here when the dragon rose and may have even helped the Dragonborn put it back down." The mage answered. "Anyway," he continued when he saw the look on his companion's face begging him to return to the topic at hand, "I know we need a daedra's heart and it also had the word 'betrayal' though I don't know what that means as that spot was pretty charred."

"A daedra's heart!?" Sable couldn't help exclaiming a bit too loudly. Sionis glanced around and hushed her, patting his hands in the air. "Where are we going to find a daedra's heart?" She asked quietly, but missing none of her previous incredulity. "And what does 'betrayal' mean? Betrayal of what?"

The mage's face fell. "I don't know about either of those." He admitted. "But it's at least more than we had." He tried to put a hopeful tone to his voice. "And there is one more thing."

"Please don't tell me we need a frostbite spider's tail." Sable replied with a sigh.

Sionis' face screwed up in confusion. "Frostbite spiders don't have tails." He stated.

"Yes, I know." The assassin answered. "That was the point. Just never mind. What else did you find?"

"We are close." He said, a smile finding its way back on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Boethiah's sacellum is close by." He clarified. "It can't be more than a couple hours away.

Sable smiled a grand smile. "I know exactly where it is." She stated proudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Boethiah is living rent free in Sable's mind as well. Does love really conquer all? Or will the promise of power win out? Stay tuned to find out.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Sky (aka ScriptrixDraconum) for looking over this chapter and offering feedback. If you haven't read her fantastic "Hero" series, be sure to check it out. She is a wonderful writer that has crafted an amazing tale.
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this chapter. It ended up being longer than I thought it would be. I actually ended up moving a bunch of stuff into the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> -E.K.

"Wait. What?" Sionis stammered, a look of confused amazement on his face. "How did you find out where it is?

Sable's smile vanished. Blurting out that she knew the location of Boethiah's shrine had been a mistake. What she should have done was to help guide the search and make it appear as though they had happened to stumble upon the Prince of Plots' sacellum. But, having blurted it out, she would have figure out something to tell him. But what could she say that would explain her spontaneous knowledge of Boethiah's whereabouts? Neither of them had known previously. How could she have so suddenly gained that insight? She quickly decided that no lie would hold up under scrutiny. There was nothing to tell him other than the truth; what had actually happened. She had to tell him that she had communicated with a Daedric Lord, but that didn't mean she had to everything him everything.

"Do you remember us speaking about The Pillow Book?" She asked.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"It somehow ended up under my pillow last night," the assassin explained, "and it actually works."

"What do you mean?" Sionis questioned, "How does it 'actually work'?"

"Well, I don't know  _how_  it works," Sable replied, "but last night, in my sleep, I talked to Boethiah."

"Really?" the mage questioned, trying somewhat unsuccessfully, to keep the skepticism from his voice. "What did he say?"

"She knows we're coming," The assassin answered. "And she knows our intent."

"Oh good!" Sionis exclaimed sardonically. "Divines know if we can pull this off, but now he'll be ready for us."

"Really, Sionis," Sable shot back, "Boethiah is a Daedric Prince, if she can't figure out what us little mortals are up to, then she's probably not worth much attention."

Sionis sat back in his chair. For whatever reason, it had never crossed his mind that the Prince of Deception would know what they were up to. Had he really done anything to get the Daedric Lord's attention?

"And why wouldn't you have her attention?" the assassin explained, as if having read his thoughts. "You ended her last attempt to mess with the mortal world when you killed that mage."

Again, he was silent for a moment as he thought about not only what she had just said, but the implications of it. Boethiah knew they were coming, so for sure he wouldn't just sit back and wait for them.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, "I … uh … I suppose you're right."

She let him have a moment in thought. It was if the thought that a Daedric Lord knowing what they were planning had never occurred to him. If she was honest, it hadn't occurred to her either. She had been so focused on just doing the contract that she really hadn't stopped to think about what it was she was actually doing. Could she actually kill a god? Was it even possible? She couldn't imagine it was. So why was she doing this? Sionis spoke up finally before the answer came.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

The question smacked her in the face. While left unsaid, in her mind his question carried with it another inquiry that asked, "Should we just give up?" And there was only one answer to that. She had never backed down from any challenge no matter how ridiculous, and she certainly wasn't going to let this go. All other thoughts were suddenly excised from her mind. What do they do now? She answered out loud.

"What we do now," she began, her voice full of grim determination and perhaps a hint of irritation as if she was answering the taunts of a bully she had finally had enough of, "is pack up and get going. I have a Daedric Prince to kill."

With that, she stood and trudged off back to their room. Sionis remained seated for a moment, not sure if he felt impressed by her moxie or worried about what they were walking into. Or perhaps it was sheer terror at her bravado in the face of the attempted murder of a god. At any rate, there was nothing to do, but rise and go pack as well. He figured it would be quite the interesting day.

* * *

A short time later, they both stepped out of the Braidwood Inn with their packs slung over their shoulders, squinting as the light of dawn quickly gave way to the day.

"Alright, where do we go from here?" Sionis asked.

Sable didn't answer, but rather started walking down the path that led away from Kynesgrove and back toward Windhelm. Sionis lurched forward to catch up with her. A short distance later, Sable suddenly stopped and turned back towards the mining town and pointed at the mountain behind it.

"Up there." She said simply. "Boethiah's shrine is up there – near the mountain top."

"We have to hike up the mountain?" The mage asked incredulously.

"We could try," Sable answered with a smirk, "though it's unlikely we could climb the more sheer faces near the top, and – if I remember right – it will take us quite a bit higher up than we want to be." Just then, an idea occurred to her. "That magic you used to pick up that dead elf at the embassy. Could you use it on yourself?"

Sionis shook his head. "The spell actualizes in a linear behavior," he answered as if that explained anything. When she said nothing and just stared back at him, he decided to elaborate. "It's linear behaving nature requires specifying both a destination and an origination. Because of that, the caster, cannot be the intended target."

"A simple 'no' would have done just fine," Sable returned, rolling her eyes and ignoring a glare from her mage companion. "Well, then we will just have to take the long way around. But, not to worry," she added at seeing Sionis' questioning look, "it's also the easy way. On the north side of the mountain, there is a path that leads directly to Boethiah. Let's go."

She started off again down the path to Windhelm with Sionis following closely behind.

They followed the road back to the Windhelm stables, but instead of going back into the city, they turned east down a road that ran beside The White River and brushed up against the southeastern corner of Eastmarch's capital.

There was little conversation as they walked. They seemed lost inside of themselves. Sionis simply contemplated whether the pair's endeavor was even possible, but determined to see it through. Perhaps with his magic having been augmented by Mephala there was a chance? He just didn't know, but he did know that there was a real chance both he and Sable would die tomorrow. He found that he was okay with the idea of himself dying. He would avenge Clairiss or he would die trying and that was enough for him.

He glanced up and saw the back of his companion's head as he followed her along. What about her? Was it fair to just lead her to her death because of some vendetta he had towards a god? Was it right? Did it matter? Or was exacting vengeance for his sister all that held meaning for him? He turned his gaze to Sable again. He honestly wasn't sure anymore.

For her part, Sable was turned inwardly as well, though she was ruminating on different matters than her mage companion. She was edgy. She was constantly mulling Boethiah's offer – Sionis' life for all the power of being a Daedric Prince's champion. But bits of what Sionis had said to her in Windhelm kept invading her thoughts, nagging at her. Was she really gaining power this way? Or was she taking a proposal out of fear? She forced herself to admit that she was afraid of what would happen if she gave herself to Sionis. Wouldn't opening herself up to him give him power over her in some way? Maybe that's exactly what he wanted. If he could gain that power, he could wield her how he wanted.

But was that really any different than Boethiah's offer? Would she not simply be a tool of a Daedric Lord? It was different though. Boethiah promised her power in return. Boethiah had said all she ever dreamed of would be hers. Could Sionis say the same? What did he have to offer?

Her thoughts were broken by the cry of a rough male voice.

"Hold there! Come no further."

Sable's head snapped up and she saw a large scruffy Nord standing at the outside corner of an L shaped two story house that had certainly seen better days. He was dressed in a hodgepodge of fur and leather armor that had also seen better days.

She quickly took in the rest of the building and the surrounding area. There was another crouched behind a crop snowberry bushes on the other side of the road, trying – and failing miserably – to hide from view. She caught the site of another as he peaked out from behind the jut of the house. And finally, she spotted a fourth. He was crouched up on the roof of the house with a bow. He had an arrow nocked and trained on her.

Sable narrowed her eyes and stared hard at the leader of the group.

"We're not here to disturb you." She called out. "We are traveling to the mountain path just beyond your house. Just let us pass."

The man began making some blustery and boastful reply, but Sable didn't pay attention. She knew they wouldn't comply, she just needed a moment to get her companion ready. She lowered her head so the bandits wouldn't see her talking.

"Sionis," she muttered, "can you deal with the archer on the roof please?"

"Yes," came the whispered reply.

"Ready what spell you need and hold it until I move."

There was no reply from him this time, but she knew he was with her.

She turned her attention back to the ruffian. "Let us by," she called out. "It isn't worth your lives and I won't warn you again."

The leader of the brigands threw his head back in a laugh, and that's what gave the assassin her opening.

Sable took off in a dead run for the leader. An instant after she heard an arrow whiz over her head, the sharp crackling report of a lightning bolt sounded, followed by a clipped scream and involuntary garbled warbling. She smiled because she knew Sionis had hit his target. Sable pulled her bow from her back as she ran.

She made it to the chief fast enough to see the surprise in his face that she would just charge him like that and before he could react, she spun in a low circle, kicking her leg out and sweeping his out from under him. He landed with a thud, gasping, trying to catch his breath.

The assassin paid him no heed and nocked the arrow she had pulled during her turn and took careful aim at the hooligan still crouched behind the snowberry bushes. His eyes went wide as he saw her take aim, but he couldn't move fast enough. Sable released the string and the arrow slammed into the man's chest just below his throat. He fell over backwards, grasping at the quivering shaft to no avail.

By this time, the last remaining bandit had recovered from the surprise attack and charged at her. Sable dropped her bow and drew her daggers. As he reached her, he launched a sideways swipe at her, aiming to cut into her arm and chest. The white-haired woman easily ducked under it. As she did, she punched her left hand up into his elbow. His hand – suddenly too weak to hold his blade – went limp and his sword fell to the ground as his arm went high and wide. Sable took the opportunity to sink the dagger in her right hand into his armpit before twisting it and yanking it back out violently.

Not finished, she spun again using her right leg as the pivot and stuck the blade in her left hand into his chest right above his left breast. The man stumbled away a few steps before crumbling the ground.

Now she turned her attention back to the leader. He had just regained his air and was attempting to sit up when her boot kicked him back down. Sable peered down as she stood over him. A cruel smile twisted its way across her lips.

"I told you it wasn't worth your lives." She admonished him, panting from the thrill of the fight and the prowess she had just shown all of them. "And I did warn you."

Saying nothing more, she slid her dagger across his throat. The man gasped as blood began spilling from his neck in sheets.

Sable stepped away from him and turned back to Sionis.

"Shall we continue?" She asked as if they had stopped for nothing more than a brief lunch.

Sionis just stood there with his mouth hanging open for a moment.

"I do believe you've gotten even better." He said in awestruck tones. Sable beamed and tried hard not to blush furiously.

"Let's go," she said, composing herself. "The path up the mountain should be just ahead."

After retrieving her bow, she turned back up the path and started on her way.

Sure enough, they came to the path up the mountain about a mile or so past the shack that had formerly housed the group of bandits. It was marked by two piles of stacked stones, one on either side of it. The two of them looked to each other and stayed there for a moment, each one searching for the resolve they needed in the other. Somehow, they just knew that the hardest step would be the one taken onto this path, as if crossing this invisible threshold meant there was no turning back.

Without a word, they both turned and with purposeful steps, passed the rather small monuments and started their way up the mountain to where Boethiah waited.

* * *

While the trail they followed was smooth and generally unbroken, the going was slow. The path twisted and turned its way up the mountain and the mountain was apparently quite tall. However, from the very bottom, gazing up at the mountain, they could see their destination – a large circular stone wall with tall archways standing around it proudly and ominously. At first the pair constantly looked to it as they made their way up. Eventually the novelty was lost and their gazes went to the ground in front of their feet.

Finally they came to a point where the path wound around a jutting slope on the eastern side of the mountain and the wall disappeared from view. As the trail went around the corner, the mountain sides rose up on both side of them. The climb became steeper though it more or less straightened out before coming to one last bend. And then they came in view of the camp.

Small rudimentary tents lay scattered on either side of the track they had been following. A short distance in front of them off to the left they saw the stone arches standing at the edge of the wall they had seen from the bottom. It made up the outer edge of a flat circular area that was surrounded by a make shift fence except for a break at the trail and a large portion missing where the ground ran into the top of the stone wall. There was a weapons rack and numerous blood stains caked into the hard ground and judging by the two men inside swinging bladed about, it looked to be some sort of proving arena where followers could train or fight each other to the death.

They were immediately approached by a Dunmer woman dressed in fur with a fierce scowl etched across her face. Her head was shaved clean and she had a reddish tattoo working its way down the right side of her face.

"Boethiah has been expecting you." She said flatly.

Sable said nothing. She just stood there staring the dark elf down, taking measure of the woman. She had a small round buckler strapped to her back and a dagger sheathed on her left hip. An odd combination, Sable thought. Generally a shield would impede, or take away, the needed reach to fight effectively with a dagger.

"Why have you come?" The Dunmer finally asked as she saw no reply coming from the white-haired assassin.

Indecision hit her hard. It was obvious that Boethiah had some way of communicating with her followers that lived in the camp spread about her shrine. However, there was no way to know how much she told them. Did she tell them to expect assailants, or a new champion? The answer was critical here, and she had no idea what to say to her. She decided to be vague with her answer and hope for the best.

"I have come to see Boethiah," she answered simply.

The dark elf smirked before narrowing her eyes at the assassin. "I know the armor of the Dark Brotherhood when I see it," she said, "Who are you here to kill?"

That answer didn't do much to clue her in on what they knew. There wasn't much to do now but play out the ruse and hope that Boethiah enjoyed deceiving her followers as much as she did insane Thalmor mages.

By now, all the stirring of the camp had ceased as all the others – about half a dozen – stopped to look on the encounter taking place at the edge. However, while most stopped whatever it was they were doing, none moved to become a part of their conversation. Seeing this, Sable guessed that the Dunmer woman speaking to her was most likely the leader of the camp.

"You." The assassin answered flatly, hoping that if she killed the leader, the others would disband, or let them pass or something.

The dark elf smiled. "You have not yet proven yourself worthy to challenge me," she said, her voice full of disdain for the pale silver-blue eyed woman in front of her. With that statement the camp's entire population began moving toward them. None of them drew weapons, nor did they rush at them. They simply walked down the path to where their leader stood speaking to a pair of outsiders. Despite there being no threatening movement or statements from the camp's small number of residents, it was still rather ominous nonetheless.

"I'm here to kill you," Sable returned with annoyance, "not challenge you to a friendly duel."

By now, the group was close enough that the priestess – or whatever title she carried – took two steps backwards and was swallowed by the small crowd.

"Prove yourself, assassin," she called out, "Prove yourself worthy and only then may you have the chance to kill me."

"Are you a coward, then?" Sable taunted. "Are you really going to hide behind six mere men rather than face your death with dignity?"

The Dunmer responded with laughter. "I call a tournament!" she shouted out. "We will pit the murderer for hire against all of us. Each contest will be one of single combat to the death. Let this outsider earn the right to face each of us. Everyone to the ring!"

The group moved with its leader so there wasn't much hope of taking her out without going through them. Sable paused a bit before following so she could confer with her companion without them hearing.

"Do you think you could take them all out?" she said softly to Sionis. It was so quiet that she could only hope that the mage had heard her.

"Of course," he replied with equal discretion, "though I would need to be in front of you. The spell I have in mind has quite a wide area of effect."

"Do it," Sable said, "but wait until we are all stopped so as to make sure you have the best chance of catching all of them in it."

The assassin, then, inconspicuously paused a step and slid behind the tall blonde man.

Just before they reached the fenced area that served as the fighting ring, the dark elf leader called out, "Bind the mage."

Instantly the whole pack reversed course and fell upon Sionis. The movement was so sudden, that he was unable to cast in time. Four of them held him and began to tie and gag him while two others turned upon Sable with swords drawn. She could have taken them down easily, but the time delay that exposed her back was their purpose. Sionis would be tied before she would be finished with the guards and it would leave her open to treachery from the Dunmer woman.

There was nothing to do now but go through with the "tournament". Sable looked over to the dark elf and saw her wearing quite the smug, satisfied smile.

"I must have forgot to mention that your mage friend is not invited to participate," she said. "He may spectate, however."

At this point, Sionis was hauled upright and taken over to the edge of the arena where he could see everything. They had gagged him to keep him from speaking and had crossed his arms tightly across his body to prevent him from casting. His feet and legs were also bound as if for good measure.

"Shall we begin, assassin?"

Sable didn't speak, but just walked to the entrance of the ring.

"You can leave your bow out here." The bald Dunmer instructed. "This is a contest of martial skill after all."

Sable took her bow and her quiver and set them down and then walked into the fighting pit and turned back around to face the camp leader.

"You will start with the lowest member and work your way up to me." The dark elf informed her. "Each fight will be to the death. I'm sure you won't have a problem with that. If you win, you will get your prize. If you lose, I will kill your mage friend as well. Are you ready?"

Sable glanced once over to Sionis. He was not struggling to free himself but had a murderous look in his eyes. It was as if he was telling her to kill them all as punishingly as she could. He looked furious at this turn of events and she found that she was beyond furious at the camp's treatment of him. All of these fools would die. She decided right then that she would slit all their throats.

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she turned her gaze back to the Dunmer, staring daggers at the woman.

"Let's get this over with," she spat through gritted teeth. "I haven't got all day."

The chief looked over her gathered charges. "Brannis, you're first," she called out.

A Breton looking man stepped into the ring. He was at least a head shorter than her with mess of tangled black hair and dark eyes. He was carrying a single sword and did his best to scowl as fiercely as possible at her. She might have laughed if she wasn't so pissed off.

"Whenever you're ready, little man," Sable called out.

The man shrieked in rage and charged her. He stopped short as he reached her and swung his sword at her. Sable ducked under the swing and punched the back of his shoulder, causing him to stumble through a turn to his left. The assassin took the one step necessary to get herself behind him and then drew a dagger and slit his throat before kicking him in the back to send him sprawling into the makeshift fence. He fell to the ground grasping at his neck, trying to contain the blood that was spilling out in spurts.

Sable turned back to the crowd. "Who's next?"

The next three – two Dunmer men and an Imperial man – fell as easily as the first had and left the assassin wondering if all of them were as inept with their weapons as the first four.

The first woman stepped into the arena. She was a Nord about as tall as Sable, though a bit burlier with bright red hair. The woman pulled a two-handed great sword from her back and advanced upon the assassin, slowly.

The red-haired woman brought her blade up and swung it down at Sable's right shoulder. The assassin side-stepped it easily, but learned it was just a ruse when the woman let go of the sword with her right hand and punched her in the face.

Sable staggered back a couple of steps and then rolled to her right to avoid another swing from the great-sword. The two opponents faced off again and Sable reached up to wipe away some of the blood from her nose.

As they closed the distance between them, her assailant again hefted the massive blade. Sable immediately rushed forward before the woman could do anything with it. Already inside her reach and unable to bring the sword back in for a block, she could only watch in horror as the assassin plunged both daggers into her stomach.

Stunned from the icy cold invasion of her innards by the elven daggers, she offered no resistance to Sable quickly spinning around behind her and slicing her throat open before shoving her to the pile of contestants she had dispatched already.

She looked out at the Dunmer woman watching over the tournament. She now had an angry frown creasing her face. Sable took pleasure in seeing – in knowing – that she was ruining the woman's fun.

Before Sable could hurl any taunts or take any other action, a man stepped away from the priestess and into the ring. He was much older than the others, but still very much in shape as testified by his muscular body. He had a full salt and pepper beard and mustache and a large scar running across the right side of his face showing him to be blind in that eye. He carried a sword in one hand and dagger in the other. Sable knew that to be a dangerous combination, giving him reach from the sword and flexibility with the dagger. He threw her the toothy smile of a predator that enjoyed a challenge.

A moment later, the smile was gone and he charged. He closed the distance surprisingly fast with a downward swipe at her left side. The assassin stepped to her right to avoid the sword and straight into the path of the incoming dagger. Sable just managed to get a dagger down to block it. The man then spun a complete circle bringing the sword in level at her neck. It clanged against both daggers as she blocked, but there was no way to address another stab attempt from the man's dagger.

Sable threw herself to her left. The dagger nicked her side, putting a long scratch in her leather armor, but she took solace in that it was a scratch and not a near evisceration. Instead of trying to jump to her feet, knowing that to do so would be certain death, she swept both legs around her in an arc.

The maneuver saved her life as the man had come running in for the kill, but instead ended up hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Both of them scrambled to their feet and faced off once more. He was skilled, she had to give him that. She needed to find a way to take away his skill, if even for a moment. It was the dirt being shuffled around by her feet that gave her an idea.

Sable cocked her arm and whipped her dagger at her opponent. Next she quickly grabbed a handful of dirt and ran at him. The blade spun end over end straight for her assailant's throat. He just managed to knock it away, but it left him terribly vulnerable. As soon as he looked toward her and began to move to counter her, she threw the handful of dirt in his face.

"You cheating bitch!" He shouted as he attempted to backpedal while trying to blink through eyes filled with grit.

Taking advantage of his momentary blindness, Sable brought her left dagger through his right forearm, causing him to drop his sword and bringing a scream of pain from his mouth. She then spun herself behind him and kicked the back of his knee out.

The man went to his knees, hissing through the pain and cursing her treachery. Sable grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back exposing his neck and the arteries that lay pulsing beneath.

"I'm an assassin." She said softly and sweetly in his ear. "Why would you ever think I would fight fair?"

And with that, she reached around with her other hand and gave him a second smile. She held him for just a moment before letting him go. He fell forward choking on his own blood.

"BLASPHEMER!"

Sable looked to the source of the scream. The last remaining member of the camp, the Dunmer leader, was trembling with rage as she walked into the small arena. "How dare you violate the sanctity of the tournament!"

"And what did I do that was so wrong?" Sable asked genuinely surprised by the woman's anger, though she didn't necessarily care if she had broken some rule.

"This was to be a contest of blades," the dark elf spat at her. "An opponent that cannot see is not a worthy opponent."

"What!?" The assassin questioned. That was her issue? She was upset because a little dirt was thrown? Sable managed to suppress all out laughter, though she couldn't keep a smirk from breaking through. "You said no magic and no bows," she answered. "I broke none of your rules."

"You show yourself to be a coward by your actions," the Dunmer fired back. "You're a mockery to the tenets of a fair fight."

"Who cares about a fair fight?" Sable asked incredulously. "There is only power and weakness. Those who die show themselves to be weak to whoever killed them. Those that kill show they're the ones who have any true power. There is nothing worthy about any opponent. There is kill or be killed."

The other woman's countenance darkened even further. Her only answer to the assassin's lecture was to raise both shield and dagger toward her opponent. And what a dagger it was. It was unlike any Sable had ever seen before. It was black as ink. The back side of the blade was straight while the other side – the sharpened side –curved gracefully and subtly back and forth before forming the point about a foot from the handle that was somewhat long and tapered to a base that was much wider than at the hilt. What made it truly beautiful was the etchings all along the handle and covering the full length of the blade. They had a silvery quality to them that made them glint and shift hues as the light or shadow hit them.

The priestess raised the shield on her left arm high and tucked in close to her side and turned her body away from Sable as much as possible while still keeping the point of her dagger just beyond the rim of the shield and aimed at the infuriating heretic.

Sable then saw the intent of the priestess' fighting style. The combination of her shield and stance made it nearly impossible to get a hit on her while one would always have to mind the pointy end. Assuming one could get inside the shield to strike, they would likely be gutted before they could do much of anything.

As she struggled to find a weakness to her assailant's fighting style, the woman suddenly came at her. The dark elf closed the gap swiftly and thrust her black-as-midnight dagger toward Sable's abdomen.

Sable flung herself back, pushing her butt out as she did so to take her belly away from the blade and avoid being skewered.

The dark elf withdrew her dagger quickly and then stabbed again, this time aiming for the assassin's face.

Sable awkwardly rolled back on her left foot, twisting her head and body away from the blade and fell to the ground landing on her back. She immediately rolled away to avoid another incoming strike from the Dunmer.

It never came, however. The dark elf simply stepped with her and then landed a hard kick to her ribs, before backing off.

"Look at you," she taunted, "rolling around in the dirt like the cravenly bitch you are. Get up and face me."

Sable rose to her feet. She could see how the priestess – or whatever she was – had risen to the top. Her way of fighting was to essentially expend as little energy as possible while wearing her opponent down until they left her an opening. Then they would be dead.

The only thing she could think of was to find some way of separate the dark elf from her shield. If that could be accomplished, she would be easy to take down with only one dagger against her two. She just had no idea how she was going manage it.

The pair circled each other once or twice, neither making a move towards the other. Sable's face showed one of grim determination, while the camp chief showed a smile of smug satisfaction, carrying the belief that she was the better of the two and the win was inevitable.

"I'm almost glad you made it to me," the shaved woman said simply. "I don't think I would have enjoyed your death as much had one of the others bested you. However, it does make Gauntlet's Day a touch awkward. I now lack everything necessary to summon my master. Hmm . . . Perhaps when I've finished with you, I can offer your mage friend to Boethiah. Not the proper offering, but maybe he will accept it as a placation."

The thought of this Dunmeri witch killing Sionis spun the assassin in a whole new place of rage. How dare she think about even touching him? Sable leapt at her opponent, driving both daggers into her shield. There was no technique or strategy in the attack, just blind rage that just might take her by surprise.

The dark elf was too good to let that happen. In fact, that had been exactly what she wanted. It had been too easy to goad her adversary into something stupid like this. The silly intruder hadn't even noticed that she had put her dagger back in its sheath. Her death would be sweet poetic justice that would avenge Gerson.

Both of the assassin's blades slammed point first against the dark elf's shield, biting deep into the wood. With the daggers embedded into the buckler, the dark elf yanked her left arm out wide, ripping them from the white-haired woman's hands. She then threw the fistful of dirt she had grabbed into Sable's face.

Sable staggered back blinded, trying desperately to wipe the stinging grit from her eyes as quickly as she could. It was no use though. She would be dead before she hope to regain her vision. The killing strike didn't come, however. Instead, everything went quiet. The Oblivion-damned elf stopped her taunts and her movements. It was clear that the dark-skinned witch wanted her to be frightened before sneaking around her and cutting her throat.

It was then that the memory of the game with Astrid hit her. Without her sight, the game her matron had used to prove that she needed more training in the art of stealth would be the means through which she would defeat this last follower of Boethiah. Suddenly, Sable calmed and knew that if she played the game right, it was impossible for the dark elf to win.

The assassin fell into herself and paid attention to nothing but what her senses could tell her. In her mind she looked at the fighting pit from all angles to analyze what her adversary's best approach would be. When she found it, she smiled and then threw all her concentration into listening to any and all sounds around her.

Seconds passed unnervingly slowly as she waited, standing there trying to anticipate the coming strike. And there it was. It was an extremely faint sound. Just the soft scrape of a boot moving just that much too quickly in the dirt, but it was all the signal she needed.

Sable immediately stepped to her left and spun to ensure she came to her opponents left side, well away from the dagger that was undoubtingly streaking through the place she had been standing. As she did so, the assassin grabbed the Dunmer's left arm and held it out wide to keep her off balance before delivering a swift kick to her knee.

The dark elf staggered to the ground with a grunt. Sable's boot went up and came back down again; this time crashing down on to the shield's edge where it met the woman's elbow. There was a deafeningly loud crack as the joint and socket shattered followed by the grotesque screams that erupted from the Dunmer's throat.

As the dark-skinned woman thrashed upon the ground and howled in pain, Sable took a moment to carefully clear her eyes of the debris. A moment later she stepped over the dark elf and turned her to her back. The assassin searched the ground with her eyes for a moment before locating the desired object. Once found, she picked up her assailant's beautiful black dagger with the silvery etchings and stabbed it down through her other arm. The woman screamed again, though it didn't quite match the volume or intensity of her elbow being destroyed.

With the priestess effectively pinned to the ground, she yanked one her elven blades from the shield, left the arena, and went to where Sionis stood bound and gagged, watching the whole affair. Sable quickly cut him loose.

"Do you want to finish her off?" she offered. If it wasn't for the simmering anger in her voice, it would have seemed no different than barmaid asking to take a patron's order.

Sionis didn't actually answer, but walked into the fighting area and then stood over the Dunmer, leaning down to speak to her.

"I think there is a flaw in you theology," he stated simply as if he were lecturing a bunch of students. "Does not Boethiah govern the realm of deception? I would think he would find it completely legitimate to trick one's opponent in order to deliver a mortal strike. I can't find the notion of a fair fight something he would exhort. Perhaps you should think on the ideals of the Daedric Prince you have chosen to venerate with what little life you have left."

With that said, he stood back upright and walked away.

"All yours." He said to his pale-eyed companion as he walked by.

Sable walked back over to the dark elf and wasted no words. She simply bent down and slit the woman's throat as she had done to all the others before collecting her other dagger from the buckler and claiming the priestess' midnight blade as her own.

She nearly walked into the back of her mage companion as he had stopped just outside the fighting ring. She was about to ask why he had stopped when she saw the look on his face. It was one of sheer amazement tinged with trepidation. He just stood there with his mouth open and his eyes wide. She followed his gaze and finally took in what he was staring at. It was her turn, now, to stand in awe. There, standing menacingly on a platform above them stood her quarry.

A monumental statue of Boethiah stood, sword raised high above her head as if beckoning – no challenging – them to approach and withstand her might. Sable felt a small shiver work its way down her spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big showdown with Boethiah is coming up next. And Sable still has to decide what to do with Sionis.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! Sorry this chapter took so long. My writing time got severely reduced for awhile while we moved as well as other craziness. This is also the longest chapter I've written to date and, at times, it just resisted getting written.
> 
> Thanks to Sky (aka ScriptrixDraconum) for reading over this chapter for me. If you haven't read her Hero series be sure to check it out either here or on AO3.
> 
> And thank you to all of you still reading and enjoying this story.

Snow began to fall lazily in large cloud-like clumps as the pair stood there staring at the monument to the Daedric Prince of Deception. It was Sable that snapped out of the spell first and began to move towards a set of stairs cut right from the rock of the mountain that lay on the far side of the camp. They ran along a large circular wall with stone spikes jutting out horizontally all around it. It was up on that platform where the statue of Boethiah stood.

With Sionis only a moment behind her, Sable began to ascend the steps. About half way up, they came to a small landing that led to their right where a much larger tent stood, but she paid it little heed and continued up the steps until she came to the top.

There, she found a large circular platform that was mostly empty. There was pot or jar here and there along the edges, but otherwise there was little else. At the far end of the platform, the towering stone effigy of Boethiah loomed high above them.

Tendrils of rock rose out of the landing engulfing the lower half of her body, one molding into her right arm. Another wrapped itself across her chest, going from her left hip over her right shoulder like a sash. Her left arm was raised high above her head brandishing a giant stone sword as she scowled menacingly down upon them.

Neither of them moved for some time; both awe-struck at the monument in front of them. They could almost feel the malice pouring from the statue towards them. It was Sable that finally broke the fearful silence.

"So, we are really going to summon her tomorrow?"

"Yep," he answered without moving his gaze from the enormous figure of the Deadric Prince. "Are you really going to kill him tomorrow?"

And that was the question. Was she going to attempt to kill Boethiah? Or was she going to offer up Sionis in exchange for the power the Daedric Lord offered? Could she even trust the Lord of Lies to follow through on her promise? Could she trust Sionis? Everything he had said about her giving in to fear kept infiltrating her thoughts through the past two days and it seemed to make sense, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it was all just a way for him to control her. But wouldn't Boethiah have control over her if she agreed to become Boethiah's champion?

"I have no idea," she finally answered honestly.

"If anyone can, it would be you," the mage answered, not understanding the true meaning of her answer. "Come on," he continued before turning away and heading back down the steps, "Let's see what provisions we can find. No sense trying to face Boethiah hungry and tired if we can help it."

Sable didn't answer. She remained rooted a moment longer, her eyes still locked on those of the statue's. She gave a slight nod to her divine adversary before following her companion down to the landing below.

* * *

"How's the lock on that chest coming along?" Sionis asked, not really concerned about his partner's fascination with things that were meant to keep her out. His true motivation was to break the heavy silence that had settled since she had started working on it.

"Fine," she said flatly without even giving him a glance. And then the quiet took over again. With the snow falling, they had quickly decided to take shelter in the large tent on the landing half way down to the camp from the statue of Boethiah. It was shaped like a miniature barn and was large enough for the both of them to stand comfortably, provided they were standing at opposite ends of the interior. In the center, just inside the door flap, there was a circle of stone marking the place to set up a fire. Also within the tent was a small table, upon which rested quite the collection of bric-a-brac, and next to the table, a large locked chest that was sole object of Sable's focus.

"That one has taken awhile," he commented, again trying to break free from the silence so he wasn't just standing there awkwardly staring at her back.

"Yes," she sighed, stopping her work and turning to look at him. "This is my last pick. If I break it, then the only way to find out what's inside this chest would be to try and break it open. That could potentially damage or ruin whatever is inside, so I'm taking my time to make sure I get it right the first time."

"I see," Sionis said shuffling his gaze around nervously. "Sorry."

Sable turned her attention back to the lock and the oppressive silence settled back in.

"I'll go look for some firewood," he mumbled quietly. If his companion heard him, she didn't acknowledge it. With that, he turned and left the tent.

Outside, the snow was still falling gently. Dark clouds stretched across the sky in every direction he could see. He looked up, letting the snow fall onto his face; feeling the soft pinpricks of cold as he wondered if his last night to stare up at the sky would be one devoid of the twin moons, the stars, and the beauty of Skyrim's aurora. Was the ugliness of this overcast firmament an indictment of what he intended to do the following day? He still felt the need to mete out judgment on Boethiah, but he shuddered to think of another innocent dying because of him. He knew that Sable was here willingly, but he found himself sincerely hoping that if she died, that he would as well.

Sionis closed his eyes and shook the thoughts from his head. He would have to find a way of living with himself later. He had a more immediate matter to which he needed to attend; namely, surviving a cold Skyrim night in a tent. And that meant he needed firewood.

Sable felt the resistance melt away on another pin. She knew she was taking more time than she needed. The excuse that this was her last pick and she needed to be careful was just a lie to hide behind. While tougher than the average lock on most houses, this one wasn't particularly difficult. But if she stretched out task, concentrating solely on it, she could avoid the disturbing thoughts about Sionis just a little bit longer. Another pin gave up the fight and she sighed. There was only so long you could force a menial task to take. She heard the mage come back into the tent and heard him begin to clatter and shuffle around the fire pit. After hearing the whooshing sound of him igniting a fire, she sighed again and decided to just move on with it. Perhaps whatever was in the chest could distract her for a while. She slipped her pick across the remaining pin, raking it into position quite easily and the lock clicked open.

"Got it," She announced half-heartedly.

"Anything interesting?" The mage asked.

Sable lifted the lid of the chest and gasped when she saw its contents. "What in Oblivion?" She breathed.

There was a slight shuffling noise as Sionis came over to look over her shoulder, curious at what she had found.

"Snow!?" He chortled incredulously at the chest packed full of pristine white snow. "Is there truly not enough snow to be found throughout Skyrim that she felt she need to lock some of it away?"

Sable sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to the snow packed chest. Why would anyone want to keep a bunch of snow from others? It just made no sense.

"Is there anything else in there?" Sionis asked, his curiosity tinged with caution as if he wasn't sure he truly wanted to know what else might be in the chest.

Sable pulled her black and sanguine leather gloves back on and plunged her hands into the snow. When she didn't immediately feel anything, she began scooping out chucks of the white fluff. Several handfuls later, she came across the true treasure contained within. It was a red lump of flesh a bit bigger than her hand. She lifted it out of the snow and held it up for her companion to see as well.

"What is this?" Sable asked, a slight tone of disgust coloring her voice.

"How clever!" Sionis said with astonishment, his voice just above a whisper. "Ingenious."

"Do you want to share your appreciation with me?" The assassin demanded.

"Do you not know what this is?" The mage asked in disbelief.

Sable shook her head in annoyance.

"It's a heart," he replied. "The heart of a minor daedra, I'm guessing. She must have. . . How do you not know what this is? Aren't you an assassin?"

"Yes, I am an assassin," Sable shot back in annoyance. "That means I kill people for money. I don't play with their insides afterwards."

Sionis mumbled an embarrassed apology and turned his gaze to the floor like a dog that knew his master was about to give it a good beating.

"Anyway, you were saying. . . She must have. . ."

The mage perked back up. "She must have used the snow to preserve it until the summoning day when she would need it to summon Boethiah. It's really quite clever."

"I see. So what do I do with this?" Sable replied, still holding the organ.

"Well, not knowing how long she's had it, I think it would be best if we re-pack it back in the snow to keep it as fresh as possible."

"Fine by me," she answered dumping it back in the chest. "Come on. Let's go gather some more snow."

* * *

Silence had settled in again as the two sat in the tent staring at the small fire, both looking for the answers they sought in the dancing and writhing of the flames. It was Sionis who finally spoke.

"So," his voice a death knell to the quiet, "about tomorrow. . ." He trailed off.

Sable looked over at him and waited a moment for him to complete is thought. "Yes, what about tomorrow?" She asked when it became clear he needed the prompting.

"I . . . uh . . . Is it possible to rescind a contract once the Dark Brotherhood has accepted it?"

"I don't know, Sionis. I'm not aware of it ever having been done." She answered, not liking the implications of his question. "Why? Why would you want to rescind the contract?"

"I was . . . just curious I . . . I guess."

"You're a terrible liar, Sionis," Sable replied, "What's really going on?"

The mage wiped in hand across the back of his neck and cast his gaze everywhere but her face, searching for some magic answer around the inside of the tent.

"Sionis," she cut in on his fidgeting, "Just tell me."

"Is there really any chance of actually killing Boethiah?" She leveled a mild glare at him at this question. "No, just answer," He pleaded. "I need to know before I can say any more."

"I don't know what will happen," she replied honestly though he couldn't understand the true meaning behind her words. "But I am going to go through with it."

He just nodded at that answer.

"Why do you ask?" She pressed.

"I . . . uh . . . I guess I would feel more comfortable with it if I knew there was some slim chance of us succeeding," he finally replied.

"I thought we understood that we had almost no chance of pulling this off right from the start," she chided, "and I thought it was understood that we were both okay with that. So what's changed?"

The dark blonde mage blew out a deep sigh before answering, "In a way, I led Clairiss to her death . . . and while  _I'm_ fine with dying in my attempt to avenge my sister, I'm not sure how I feel about leading yet another to their death along with me." As he finished, he gave her a pointed look to indicate she was the 'other' to which he was referring.

Sable threw her own look at him. "Sionis, I've told you before, you're not to blame for your sister's death. It was not you who chose to kill her. You didn't . . ."

"Would she have been there if not for me?" He asked her sharply, anger tainting his voice. "Would she have still been in their hands if not for me?"

"Maybe!" Sable shot back. "You can't know that. No, don't shake your head at me. It's entirely possible that a member of that skooma gang would have seen her and taken her just for the sport of it."

"You really think that could have happened?" He shot back, "They would have just randomly kidnapped someone on a whim?"

"It doesn't matter if that could have happened or not because that's not what did happen," the assassin answered, "What's in the past is in the past and there is no use worrying about could have or would have or might have happened. It's already done. But you're not the one that dragged the blade across her throat or poisoned her or whatever. You didn't choose that for her."

"Do you really believe that?" Sionis asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

"That's how I see it," she answered firmly, "And I kill people for a living."

He didn't say anything to that. He just sat there, uncertainty painted across is features.

"If anything, you made every choice to keep her alive," Sable continued, "You could have just left her to the cartel and left to continue your own life."

"No," the mage said simply tears stinging his eyes, "No, I couldn't have done that."

"I'm not saying you're that kind of person. I'm saying that it was a choice that could've been made. But you didn't make that choice. You made the choice you thought was going to keep her alive."

"Um . . . thanks," the mage mumbled to her, "That does help, I think."

"And as for me," the assassin's voice now became stern, "you aren't leading me to my death. I may die tomorrow, but it won't be because of you. I accepted the contract and have been driving us forward every step of the way. I want to do this, Sionis. So clear your conscience of me. Nothing you do is changing what I'm going to do tomorrow."

Sionis nodded his agreement and the silence between them returned. Her words ran through his mind over and over again. He had always thought about the part he had played in his sister's death. He had never considered his actions from the perspective of trying to keep Clairiss alive. He almost chuckled at the irony of it; that an assassin – a dealer of death – had opened his eyes to his fight to keep someone alive.

"What was she like?"

Sionis startled and looked over at his companion questioningly.

"Your sister," Sable clarified, "what was she like?"

He smiled. "She was quite the troublemaker actually," he offered, "though she was not mischievous. It was her naivety that always got her into trouble. She was always shocked when she discovered someone was dealing with her with anything less than pure intentions." He paused a moment, his gaze never leaving the small fire. "And I was always the one to save her. She got me a lot of hard looks and reprimands that way, but I always protected her."

"Tell me about one," Sable requested. She wasn't sure why she had this sudden interest in his past, but if it kept him from the despair of losing his sister, then it served a purpose. At least she could tell herself that was why she wanted to know more about him.

"Well," he took a deep breath, "The one that probably got me in the most trouble is when I beat up the son of the Captain of the City Guard."

Sable's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really? What did he do?"

"He was talking to her."

"Wait, just talking to her? You punched the kid out for talking to her!?"

"It wasn't just innocent talking," Sionis shot back defensively, "I know what he was really after. I could see it in the way he was looking at her."

"I see," the assassin said somewhat hesitatingly, "And what happened to you?"

"Well, I got to spend a day in the prison," he answered with a hint of mischief in his eyes, "His dad's way of trying to 'scare me into acting right'. And he also tried to have me thrown out of the Arcane University. Almost succeeded too."

"The Arcane University?" she asked, her voice full of confusion, "Isn't that in Cyrodiil?"

"Of course it is," Sionis answered, equally confused with his companion's question.

"You studied at the Arcane University?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Why wouldn't I have?"

"Because isn't there a school up in Winterhold?" Sable asked, "Why not study there?"

"Why would I study at the College of Winterhold?" Sionis asked incredulously, "The University was right there in my home town."

"Home town?" Sable's face screwed up in bewilderment as she pondered his statement. "Wait. You're not a Nord!?"

Sionis shook his head.

"You're tall enough to be one."

"I've heard that before," he smiled, "but no. I'm an Imperial. Just a really tall one."

"Guess that explains why you whine so much about the cold."

Sionis' mouth fell open. "Hey, it's cold up here," he protested, "And I don't whine . . . that much."

"You whine like a milk-drinker," Sable playfully chided and they both chuckled. "So then, what brought you to Skyrim?"

And just like that, his smile was gone. "A favor for a friend who got himself mixed up with a bunch of skooma dealers."

"I'm sorry," Sable offered and she shuffled closer to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He simply nodded.

"So that means you just recently came to Skyrim, then?" She asked after a moment of silence having thought about everything he had said.

"Depends on what you mean by recent," he offered with a half-hearted snort, "I honestly don't really remember exactly when I came. I simply rushed to the aid of my friend, and then ended up staying when they took Clairiss." He paused, thinking about it, "If I had to guess, I would say that it's been at least three years."

"Three years!?" Sable cried out, "They had you in their grip for that long?"

The mage sighed and nodded.

"You never made an attempt to escape them before me?"

He shook his head and his shoulder slumped.

"Why not?"

Sionis looked up at her then, his eyes rimmed with tears.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to. . ."

"Fear," he answered softly, "I let my fear control me."

Sable felt like she had been punched in the gut. Everything she feared about the speech Sionis had given her two nights ago was true. He really had set it up to gain power over her. He used her burgeoning trust in him to put himself over her. It had actually made so much sense and that was what made it so insidious. She had fallen for it because when she had really thought about it that night, she had thought he was right. She had thought that perhaps she could break away from all the endless power struggles. But it had been a carefully crafted ruse that showed her that she was actually far more powerless than she ever realized.

"You don't have to do that," Sable snapped, "I had already told you that you were right about that. And now that you've proven you were able to manipulate me so completely, you're gloating about it?"

"What!?" Sionis' face screwed up in confusion before turning to a mask of indignation upon realizing what she meant. "You really think I would go that far to manipulate you like that? That I would use, or even falsify, my own pain just to press a point? To Oblivion with you, Sable."

"I . . . I'm sorry," she finally said after a long pause.

"When I said those things to you two nights back, I was speaking from my own experience," Sionis explained, the anger not yet completely vanished from his voice. "I was still speaking to myself as much to you?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Has your life really been that despicable?" He questioned with a mixture of concern and skepticism. "Are you really that used to deception and manipulation that you assume it from everyone at all times?"

"I learned very early that it's either use or be used, you are either strong or weak, that in any situation you either exert power over them or they will overpower you," she explained, taking her time to make sure she found the right words. "It's not just deception and manipulation, it can be anything. Simply taking someone's life can be a way to ensure your power over them. So you train yourself to look for the upper hand with everyone in every situation. Look for anything they might use against you and then counter it. I expect lies because most people think they are powerful. In reality they are actually rather fragile. Once exposed, they have no power and they can't be taken back. The easiest way to defeat someone's lie is to call it out."

"Oh my . . ." the mage muttered under his breath.

"Manipulation is much harder to see, so it's a much more powerful tool," she continued, "Even if it's exposed, a lot of times you've already let the other person have power over you and then you must fight twice as hard to get it back. The weakness with manipulation is that there has to be some amount of trust in the other person in order for it to work. So it's best to never truly trust someone. That way you are armored against it.

"I'm sorry. That's why I reacted the way I did when you said that. It confirmed my fear that what you said that night was really just a manipulation in order to gain power over me. I haven't been able to shake the thought of it from my mind."

Sionis sat there stunned. Two things kept flashing through his mind. He wondered about just how disturbing her life must have been to have given her that kind of an outlook on life. With that in mind, he was quite overjoyed that he had gained her trust. He couldn't help look upon her with pity at that moment. While she had explained everything resolutely and with conviction, it was clear to him that she was just as broken – if not more so – as he was. His issues of getting mixed up with the cartel and his sister getting killed, seemed insignificant compared to hers that didn't allow her to see people as anything but evil that always sought to use her for their own purposes. He wasn't sure he wanted to know her views about love.

He realized he wanted to know all about her and share in it with her. She had shared in his pain over Clairiss and all his poor decisions that led to her death. It was his turn to share in hers. "Tell me how that happened," he said and then added at her slightly confused look, "Tell me what taught you those lessons."

"You may not like what you hear," she warned, though there was a hopeful twinge to her voice that begged him to listen.

"Don't hold anything back," Sionis reassured her.

Sable took a deep breath in and held it for just a moment before blowing it out in a nervous sigh. She sat there for a long while, working up the courage to tell Sionis what she had kept to herself her entire life. He never once attempted to prompt her or rush her. He simply sat patiently with a kind gaze toward her letting her know that she had his attention for as long as needed.

"I. . . I don't really remember my parents," she finally began, "And I don't remember how I lost them. My first real memories were of the inn keeper. His name was K. . ." her voice caught it took a moment for her to regain it. "His name was Kalvard. He had apparently took me in and gave me food and a warm bed to sleep in. It was . . . It was safe and comforting and generally a happy time I had with him. He simply asked that I helped out around the inn to 'earn my keep' he always said, though I knew he would never throw me out. At first, it was very minor things like helping to wipe tables or sweep up when I was little, but as I grew older he asked for more. Most of the time I would help take orders and bring people their food and drink. A few times, I even cooked." A small smile appeared for a brief moment.

"But when I turned thirteen," the smile was gone and her voice suddenly went weak, "he explained that he needed me to help him in others ways. He explained that all men needed to be pleasured and that he had no one to provide it to him. He told me that since I was coming of age, I would have to help him. At first it was just my hands that he needed, but it didn't stay that way. As time went on there were other things he needed of me. I was made to remove some of my clothing. Eventually I would remove all of my clothing. Eventually he did the same. All the time he assured me that it was normal; that it was acceptable and that most girls did the same, but there was always something that nagged at me that it was wrong. It didn't feel normal, but I went along with it because he no longer joked about me 'earning my keep' and straight out threatened to throw me out. I stayed and pleasured him night after night because I knew I had nowhere else to go."

There was another brief pause in her story where the only thing heard was Sable taking in deep breaths and blowing them out in order to keep her composure.

"Then he explained that he needed my . . . my," her voice cracked and it took a couple more sighs to continue, "he said he needed my mouth. He also got rough if I hesitated or said I didn't want to pleasure him or he just felt I wasn't 'giving it my all'. It all ended when I was . . . I guess I was about fifteen. He told me he needed me to pleasure him completely. He told me that he needed to lay with me. I refused and he beat me severely. I went to sleep that night with one eye nearly swollen shut, a cracked rib or two, my mouth full of my own blood.

"All the while he explained how he would always have power over me. That I belonged to him and he would use me as he saw fit or I would be punished. He waited a whole two days before pushing himself on me again. The swelling had gone down from my eye and my lip, but they still hurt to touch. I was still hesitant and so he . . . he tied me d-down and he . . . he . . . uh . . . he took me."

The assassin broke at this point, unable to contain the tears. Sionis drew her into his arms and just held her. It was then that he noticed she was shaking and he realized that her tears were not tears of sorrow or pain, but of rage and hatred. Still, he said nothing and she was grateful for that. She was re-living this part of her tortured life for the first time in close to ten years and she needed the anger to avoid being overwhelmed by it. And she realized that she had needed someone to hear it. Someone to listen to all that had been done to her and to realize what she had overcome. She needed someone to know that she had broken free of his power over her and had become something far more powerful despite it.

"That night," she finally continued and her voice was now as strong as steel, "I didn't go to sleep. I laid in my bed and plotted my first murder."

She went quiet again for another moment, waiting for him to pass judgment on her actions. He didn't say a thing; just continued to hold her even though the tears and the shaking had stopped. She took it as a sign to continue.

"The next day, while I was going about my duties, I snuck a knife from the kitchen. I kept it with me the whole day, jumping every time Kalvard spoke to me. I just knew that somehow he had found out about me hiding the knife and knew what I intended to do with it, but he just went about the day as though everything was normal. He was back to being the kindly, but stern inn keeper that was affording me food and a warm bed purely out of the kindness of his heart.

"I waited patiently through the whole day, trying my best to act as if nothing was wrong. Finally, it came time to act. Just after the busy-ness of the evening, I crept unseen into my room and waited behind my door. It seemed like it took forever for him to close down the kitchen and work his way back to my room. He didn't see me when he finally got there. My legs ached from keeping myself in a crouch the entire time, but that pain was gone the moment he stepped into the room. He whispered and then called for me, but when I didn't answer, he came into my room and then went to my chest where I kept my clothes that needed washing. He rummaged through it for a while until he found a pair of my small clothes. He lifted them to his face and inhaled deeply and that's when I snapped."

Sable reached up and wiped the sting from her eyes before they could become tears again and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I slammed my door shut and drew the knife I had been hiding and ran at him screaming," the tone of her voice now grew cold and emotionless as if she were just reading a new edict from a Jarl, "I must have surprised him, because he didn't move as I rushed him. When I got close enough, I jumped and smashed into him, bringing us both to the ground." She paused, "And then I stabbed him. I stabbed him over and over again. I stabbed him until I had no strength left to lift the blade anymore. It was then that I understood what he meant when he said he had power over me. I had taken his life and there was nothing he could've done to stop me. I realized then what power was and I promised myself I would never let anyone have power over me again. I fell asleep that night, covered in his blood and slept more soundly than I had in years.

"I woke to one of the other hirelings knocking on the door looking for Kalvard. Without thinking, I went and opened the door to my room. I had to kill him too when he saw Kalvard, or rather what was left of him, lying dead in my room. From there I changed my clothes and took that kitchen knife along with as much gold as would fit in my pockets and ran away. I lived as a wandering beggar for a while, stealing when I could and killing when I had to and sleeping wherever someone would let me."

"By the gods," Sionis couldn't help whispering. His companion said no more at that point. "I apologize," he added, correctly guessing that his companion feared his reaction to her story, "Please don't stop. I want to hear it all. How did you end up with the Dark Brotherhood? I guess they found you and took you in?"

"No, it didn't happen that way," he could tell by her voice that a small smile had found its way back to her face. "I simply roamed Skyrim looking for some place to call home again. Eventually I found my way to Riften and joined the Thieves Guild, but there was always something wrong about it. I didn't belong. They didn't understand how power truly worked. They didn't see what it was to take a life and it caused issues between me and the guild's leadership. Eventually Astrid did find me though and welcomed me into The Family and I truly found where I'm supposed to be."

When she finished, she climbed out of Sionis' embrace and move to look at him face to face. She wanted to see what judgment her past actions would bring to her. He still said nothing, just looking at her with a very strange look on his face.

"I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore," she finally offered up when she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Why would I want nothing to do with you anymore?" He asked, not in a confused sort of way, but in an almost scholarly manner that suggested he was most interested in how she answered.

She shrugged. "I just told you everything," she stated in a resigned manner, "You now know that I am just pretending. Kalvard showed me that I am weak." She paused to pull in a deep breath. "Sure, I killed him, but it was only a moment of strength. And it was something I ran from. A strong person would have stayed and faced it head on. I fled. And I've been fleeing ever since. Only pretending to be strong and powerful. I've never told anyone about Kalvard before because he exposes me as a lie. He exposes any strength I show as weakness."

At this admission, Sable's gaze fell into her lap and she slumped as if a great weight were pressing on her.

Sionis reached over and lifted her chin. His gaze bored a hole straight through her and a small knowing smile formed just before he spoke.

"Only a fool would have stayed to face certain death after having murdered your tormenter," he said quietly, but with conviction. "Kalvard appeared to everyone as a kindly innkeeper that took in a lost waif despite any hardship it caused him. They may or may not have believed your allegations about him."

"Maybe," Sable offered meekly, unconvinced of her companions words.

"In truth," Sionis continued, his hand having moved from her chin to gently holding her cheek, "it took strength to go out on your own without any support. You took what little you could and left, not knowing if it was sufficient or how you would make your way. And . . ." he paused to make sure she was looking at him rather than the ground, "you survived. You may have done things that are against the law or that I may not agree with, but you survived. You've even flourished now that you're with the Dark Brotherhood. That shows true strength. A weak person would have given up and let the world and death take them. But you didn't. You defied the odds and you defied everything that would label you as weak. The way I see it, Kalvard didn't expose you. He unleashed you."

Sable's face screwed up. "Are you saying what he did to me was a good thing?" A hard steely look came to eyes. "Are you saying I needed it or something like that?"

The mage's eyes went wide. "No," he entreated waving his hands in what would have been a placating gesture if not for the mild panic that had set in. "Divines, no, that's not what I'm trying to say. I would never wish what you experienced upon anyone and I am grieved it happened to you." He paused to collect his thoughts. "I apologize for a poor choice of words."

Her stare had softened somewhat, but was not gone.

"Who knows what would have become of you if that innkeeper hadn't assaulted you. You might be at that inn right now, cleaning dishes and washing bed linens. And maybe that would have been a nice life and you would have been happy." Sable made a face at that, but allowed Sionis to continue. "But that's not what happened. You went through something that was horrible and it's made you better. A person will only grow into their potential through challenge or trial. You have faced more already then most see in a lifetime. Perhaps that means you have more potential than others. Maybe it doesn't. You can't know that unless a person is tested. What it does mean, however, is that you have realized more of your potential than most. I'm not saying that what Kalvard did to you was a good thing. I'm saying that what you did with it was a good thing. You are who you are because of it and I wouldn't change a thing about you. I love you."

"You what!?" Sable exclaimed, her eyes opening wide.

"I . . . uh . . . I love you," the mage answered, his voice low, but unflinchingly steady.

"You can't love me," she protested, "I'm . . . I'm not lovable."

"Why would you say that?" Sionis asked, baffled by the statement.

She said nothing for a short while, searching for a suitable answer. She had to find a reason why he couldn't love her. His simple and confident admission threatened to consume her. She had to kill it quickly, or the power it could exercise on her would be overwhelming.

"I'm an assassin," she finally said, her voice filled with uncertainty, "I kill people for a living . . . and enjoy it."

"Is not your Family's leader married?" He asked pointedly, "To another assassin no less? I don't think your profession prohibits you from being 'lovable'."

"But, with everything I've done, how . . ." Her voice failed and a single tear escaped her crumbling façade and rolled down her face. "I . . . I'm not worthy of love. I can't be." The dam broke and she burst into sobs. "I was weak. And, and I still am. Just look at me now. Terrified of . . . of three little words. I . . . I don't deserve love. I . . ."

A gentle shushing from Sionis interrupted her. He gently took her chin his in hand and lifted her gaze to meet his.

"You overcame Kalvard and what he did to you," he explained gently. "That makes you strong. You overcame living as a beggar and thief. You overcame the alienation when living with the Thieves' Guild. You've overcome everything this contract has thrown at you as well. You're the strongest person I've ever met. And I love you."

"But . . ."

"Oh, for Oblivion's sake," Sionis muttered, cutting off another attempt at Sable refusing to acknowledge what he was telling her. "You are worthy of love. And if you can't hear it, let me show you."

And with that, he kissed her. It was gentle and soft; nothing like Kalvard's crushing assaults and it melted her consciousness. She felt the tension leave him and the confidence of the kiss grow as the blow to the side of his head – the result of the last time he had kissed her – never came. And then, there was nothing but his lips. Kalvard and her past were gone. Her search for acceptance and belonging and her subsequent finding it no longer mattered. His soft lips against hers was the only thing she knew. The mountaintop and the reason they were there faded away. Even the tingle of his stubble poking against her face left. The only thing she felt was the connection created between them. It went beyond a mere touching of lips. It transcended everything she had experienced and she no longer knew where she ended and he began. It was like their souls were touching, joining together and it was frightening and exhilarating and confining and freeing all at once. It sent shivers through her and it was maddening.

Finally, and yet much too soon, the mage pulled away. She opened her eyes, having not realized she had shut them and found that her breath was rather hard to come by. She didn't know what to make of what had just happened and everything she felt as a result, but she knew she wanted more.

Sionis held her gaze for a moment before nervousness overtook him. He cast his eyes into his lap and began fidgeting with his robes.

"I'm sorry . . . I was just getting frustrated and . . . well I . . ."

He was cut off by the assassin taking his chin in her hand and lifting his gaze to hers; just as he had done with her a short time ago. But she said nothing and just held him hostage in her stare. And then she kissed him.

Sable was sure that her kiss wasn't as gentle or wonderful as his had been, but somehow that made it better. The previous kiss was something that would never be duplicated and while it hadn't been the first time he had kissed her, it was the first time she had accepted it. It had been the first that was right. Now it was his turn to accept one from her.

The shivers returned as the kiss lingered and as their mouths parted and their tongues met, they turned into jolts of electricity slamming and fluttering pleasure through her. Once again everything she knew cracked into pieces and fell away. The two of them were all that existed; their melding together was all that mattered.

She found his hands with hers and brought them to her sides. She wanted him to touch her. No, she craved it. As their tongues caressed each other, she held onto him. She was lost in this and didn't want to be found. Sable realized that she loved kissing him and as she softly pushed him to ground decided that she wouldn't stop until the sun rose the next day.

* * *

Sionis woke to find himself tangled in a mess of bedrolls, blankets, and the limbs of a curvy assassin. He smiled, remembering the events of the previous night and began trying to slowly extricate himself from the discombobulation. The cold air of the morning stung his skin and he shivered. He looked to the fire pit to find that it was mainly ashes. There would be no rekindling of it without more wood. Shivering again, he made his way over to the tent flap and peeled back a corner to take a peek at the day.

It was no longer snowing and the sun was shining brightly. The snow storm had blown off as quickly as it came and it looked like it was going to be a clear and bitterly cold day. The mage thought that it would somehow been more fitting if the sky was overcast and menacing. After suffering yet another wave of shivering, Sionis closed the tent flap and found his robes and hurriedly dressed himself.

Still finding it a bit cold, he went out and grabbed one chunk of wood from the pile and put it into the fire pit, igniting it with magic. He then went over to Sable and ran his hand through her stark white hair, garnering a hum of contentment from her. He wanted to wake her, but wasn't sure how to proceed. She had finally been completely open with him and he was afraid of doing or saying anything that would close her back up.

"Uh . . . it's morning," he finally offered awkwardly.

She stirred and smiled. Her face turned to him even before her eyes opened. When they did, her countenance fell.

"It's morning?" Her voice and eyes were filled with dread. She just laid there looking like she was caught in a trap and even pulled the blankets tighter around her.

The abrupt change in her demeanor caught the mage off guard. Was there something he had done? Had he pushed too hard last night?

"Are you okay?" He asked hoping to all the Divines she wasn't retreating after the wonderful night they had had. She had finally opened herself up to him and seeing that part of her person had been amazing. He didn't want anything to drive her back behind her walls. "Is it . . . what we did . . .?"

At the fear in his voice, her face softened. She lifted a hand a tenderly stroked his cheek.

"No," Sable quietly assured him, "I regret nothing from last night." She paused a moment, her eyes searching. "I . . . I'm going to try to kill a god today. I guess I didn't have to think about that much up until now. At times, it seemed as if we simply wouldn't find a way to even confront Boethiah. And now we're here. And there is quite the ordeal before us."

Sionis wasn't sure he believed her. The look she had worn had been one of terror, not trepidation. Why were the walls coming back up? He had thought that they had moved past her needing to hide from him.

"Sable, please don't do this again," the mage begged. "Tell me what's really going on. No more walls, please."

"I'm afraid, Sionis!" She shot back. "I don't want to die. I'm afraid to die." She, then related to him her encounter with the priest of Arkay and the subsequent dream. She told him how – with a few simple words – he had brought her face to face with her own mortality and how it had shaken her. She told him about how she had woke up screaming later that night. She had been screaming for her own life and how it had so shaken the Family that two of them, Gabriella and Babette, had kept a vigil over her, forcing her to sleep with calming magic. She told him how it still haunted her; how it had driven her to recklessness, trying to best Arkay, the God of Birth and Death. She told him how she had begged Babette to turn her into a vampire and therefore cheat death. And she told him that she had taken his contract to kill the Prince of Plots as a way to prove that Arkay would not hold sway over her and that if she could actually do it, she would be a legend and her name would live on forever.

"And now we are about to summon her with the sole purpose of pissing her off." She smiled and gave a slight chuckle at that statement. "Yes, I am afraid."

"I'm sorry," Sionis said, bowing his head, casting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry I got you mixed up in my need for vengeance. You can leave if you want."

"And what about you?" She asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"I will stay," he replied plainly. "I am going to see this through, but I won't ask you to take up a cause that isn't yours."

"I'm staying too," Sable declared lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You performed the Black Sacrament and you made a contract. I'm bound by the tenets of the Dark Brotherhood to kill Boethiah or die trying." She paused and a smile lit her face. "Besides, you wouldn't make it a second without me."

* * *

A short time later, the pair once again stood before the imposing statue of Boethiah. They had retrieved the heart from the chest and were now standing before the small altar, both working up the nerve to start the summoning ritual. Finally with a deep breath (and really not wanting to hold the organ anymore), Sable stepped forward and plopped it on the small stone dais located at the base of the effigy of the Daedric Lord of Sedition.

"Based on what I could get out of the journal, you need to stab the heart," Sionis voiced just above a whisper. "I still have no idea what the 'betray' part means though, so hopefully this is all that is needed."

A pained expression flashed across Sable's face, unseen by her companion. For all his brilliance with magicka, he could be incredibly slow to catch on to some things when he wanted. With a sigh, she slipped one of her daggers from its sheath and plunged it into the small mass of flesh, wincing at the squelching sound it made.

Nothing happened. There was no darkening of the sky, nor was there any thunder or lightning to mark that the deity had even noticed. It was so anticlimactic, Sable almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Sionis, on the other hand, stood befuddled, trying to think of what he got wrong, and how on Nirn they might be able to try again once he could work out the solution.

The pair turned to leave and were nearly to the far side of the wide circular area that lay out before the statue when a loud voice, matronly yet full of malice broke the silence.

"Champion," it boomed, "I accept your offering."

They both turned to face the statue once more. While its source was undoubtedly the towering stone monument, the voice had seemed enveloping, oppressing them from all sides.

"There is but one thing yet needed in order to bring me to the mortal plane."

Sionis took a step back from the sheer magnitude of the voice's presence. His stare was trained on the stone face of the Daedric Prince, suddenly knowing this endeavor had been a huge mistake.

"Kill your useless companion. Murder him in my name and bring me to Nirn that I might reward you."

The mage's jaw dropped open. Instantly, he understood what the journal meant by "betray". In order to summon Boethiah to the mortal world, the summoner had to betray a friend. If Sable really meant to take on the Daedric Prince, then she would have to kill him.

"Sable? . . ."

"Sionis," she interrupted, her voice full of pain and remorse. "I love you, Sionis."

Sionis noticed her right hand slip her dagger from its sheath again.

"DO IT!" Boethiah's voice boomed louder than any thunder.

Sable whirled around, closing the one step of distance between them and sunk the blade into his side to the hilt.

His eyes went wide. At first it was cold. It felt like he had been stabbed with a sliver of ice. Then came the pain and then, strangely, it faded and there was nothing. He felt nothing at all. He had lost all feeling as well as the strength to stand. He would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Sable still holding him.

She leaned and kissed him then. It was gentle and urgent at the same time.

When she broke the kiss and pulled back, he saw a single tear running down her face.

"I'm sorry Sionis," she whispered before letting him go.

And then he did fall to the ground. He felt no pain as he landed. The lingering feel of her lips pressed against his was the last sensation to go. He just laid there trapped in an unmoving body. His vision, involuntarily locked onto the swirling vortex of purple and black energies that erupted outward to reveal an armor clad woman with yellow, gleaming eyes holding a large battleaxe in one hand and a shield in the other standing at the base of the statue.

Boethiah laughed a vicious laugh. "I AM HERE!" She roared with glee. "Champion, come to me to receive what you deserve."

The dark goddess turned to face where Sable should be standing and that's when the arrow slammed into Boethiah's head right above her right eye.

The Daedric Lord screamed in rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The fight with Boethiah! Feel free to leave a comment and let me know how I'm doing.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, Thanks to Sky (aka ScriptrixDraconum) for reading this chapter over for me. You're the best, Sky. And thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story so far. Sorry so much time is going by in between chapters. This chapter was rather tricky in spots due to all the fight action to write.
> 
> Lastly, there was a bit of an oops on my part. There was supposed to be a crucial bit of conversation in a previous chapter between Sable and Sionis where he explains to Sable the enchantments on the daggers she stole from the Thalmor Embassy. Part way through writing this chapter, I realized that I had never actually written said conversation. Umm, oops. I have added it into Chapter 28, just before they leave Windhelm. Sorry a thousand times for this gaff and I hope it doesn't spoil this chapter for you.

The assassin stood at the other end of the Daedra's sacellum, another arrow nocked, bowstring pulled tight and her gaze trained on the goddess. In stature the goddess was much like a Nord, but otherwise had the appearance of a Dunmer, her skin being ashy grey in color with dark hair, her face oval-shaped and her visage stern.

"Boethiah," Sable called out, hoping the mortal fear she felt would not make its way into her voice. "I am Sable, of the Dark Brotherhood. This man has put a contract out on your life and I am here to fulfill it. I am here to kill you."

The Prince of Plots chuckled as she reached up and yanked the arrow from her forehead. If it pained her – or had any effect on her – she did not show it.

"And you think a single arrow is sufficient to kill a god?" Boethiah's matronly voice dripped venom. "You fool. Do you not know what will happen even if you could manage to kill this mortal form?"

"I don't care," Sable answered.

"I will just return to my plane of Oblivion. You can't kill me. I am a Daedric Prince."

"I said I don't care!" Sable spat and let the arrow fly.

It clanged off the goddess' breastplate. Boethiah smiled a vicious smile as she surveyed her opponent. "You have done well up to this point, my champion, but you are beginning to irritate me. Don't ruin it!"

Sable let another arrow fly. This one streaked through the air and sliced through Boethiah's ear before disappearing over the side of the mountain behind her.

"Enough posturing Boethiah," the assassin called out. "Face your death with some dignity."

"To Oblivion with you mortal!" the Daedric Lord shrieked. "You ruined my schemes with the elf, but you won't ruin my time here on Nirn. Let us see if the mouse can best the lion."

With that said, Boethiah charged her. Sable immediately skittered to her left, surprised by how fast the goddess moved despite being dressed in full plate armor.

The goddess chased her. Boethiah moved in the armor as if she were just wearing clothes. She also hefted the massive double bladed war axe as if it were a wooden practice sword. And it was all Sable could do to keep away from the Daedric Prince, much less figure out a way to defeat her.

Just a few minutes into the constant scampering and dodging left Sable panting. Meanwhile, Boethiah showed no signs of tiring. The goddess' movements were perfect and her attacks flawless. Sable knew she wasn't going to find an opening to strike. She would have to make one.

The assassin lashed out with both daggers. Boethiah raised her shield to deflect the attack, and swung her axe in retaliation. As soon as her daggers hit the Daedric Lord's shield, Sable ducked under the stroke of reprisal and stabbed both of her blades into the side of the goddess. Both found the seam in the armor and sunk into Boethiah's ribs.

The Daedric Prince shrieked, but instead of pulling away, tilted her side, pinching the two creases of her armor together, creating a bind against the daggers. Then the goddess brought her elbow slamming back into the assassin's head.

Sable's vision went black as Boethiah's elbow crashed into her. Her hands were ripped from her daggers and she was sent sprawling into the ground a few steps away. She grabbed her head, willing the world to stop spinning and for her vision to clear from a clouded blur.

She knew she should move. She had to roll away, get up and run, anything, but her mind simply couldn't will any part of her to function. She couldn't even cry out when she felt the kick from Boethiah send her flat on her back.

Her vision was still hazy, but it was clear that the goddess had hefted her axe high, about to deliver a killing blow. But it never came as there was a screech of the air being rent followed by a shattering sound like a glass window being violently broken. Beothiah staggered a step before she could bring the axe down.

"Sionis!?" Sable choked out, squinting to try get her vision back under control.

"If you ever do that again, Sable," he called out, "I will be aiming these ice spikes at you."

"Never again," she muttered too low for him to here.

"What treachery is this?" the Daedric Lord exhaled, turning now to the mage that had seemingly risen from the dead.

With Boethiah distracted by her beloved mage, Sable took the opportunity to grab a healing potion and down it.

"It was quite brilliant of her actually," Sionis explained to the astonished goddess. "She stabbed me with a dagger laced with a powerful paralysis enchantment. It was powerful enough to make me appear dead. When she kissed me, she forced a healing potion into my mouth to heal the wound, provided I didn't _actually_ die from drowning in it."

Sable's vision had finally cleared now with the help of the healing potion.

"Any reason you didn't tell me before hand?" Sionis asked his companion now that she had risen. "A little forewarning would have been nice."

"It had to be real," was all she offered, before she called out a taunt to the Daedric Prince. "What's the matter, Lord of Deception? Don't like being deceived?"

"Enough!" Boethiah screamed out. "It matters not. I will kill the both of you!"

The goddess took one step towards Sionis before rounding back on the assassin and rushing her. Sable dove out of the way of the Daedric Prince and grabbed out her second pair of elven daggers. Both glimmered briefly, showing off their enchantments. She then leveled a glare at Boethiah and charged her.

As soon as Boethiah set herself for the attack, Sable dropped and rolled through the goddess' legs. Coming up behind her, the assassin struck with both daggers at the same seam she had found earlier. Only one found it. The dagger with the life stealing enchantment bit into the Boethiah's side. Sable quickly withdrew the blade in order to avoid losing yet another one, but not before she felt the surge of rejuvenating strength flow into her, the ache in her head subsiding even further.

The goddess rounded on her, the axe cutting the air as she spun, but Sable had already shuffled back away from her adversary. Boethiah made to take a step towards Sable, but was stopped by a bolt of lightning that arced into her and stunned her for a moment.

Sable didn't waste the opportunity. She kicked the goddess' shield out of the way, ducked under Boethiah's axe hand and stabbed her dagger up into the goddess' wrist, twisted it, and then ripped it back out. Again Sable felt a surge of vitality and she decided then and there that she really liked that dagger.

Boethiah shrieked, dropped her enormous axe and lashed out with her shield. Sable was already stepping back to avoid any counter strike, but the Daedric Lord was too fast and still managed to land a glancing blow that pushed her to the ground.

The goddess held up her right hand, struggling to make her fingers move. A moment later, Sable was stunned to see Boethiah's hand regain full movement. The deity smiled a cruel smile at the assassin, but before she could gloat, there came again the sound of crystal shattering through the air. Boethiah staggered forward a step from the impact of the ice Sionis had thrown at her.

"I've had just about enough of you," the Daedric Prince snapped.

Her only answer was another spike of ice crashing against her, but this time her shield was up and her stance set. As soon as it shattered against her, Boethiah spun and launched her shield at Sionis.

The mage stood no chance. The escutcheon slammed into him, taking him to the ground where he lay very still. Sable stopped. All she could do was stare in shock and horror at her love lying – unmoving – on the cold ground.

She turned her attention back to the Daedric Lord with a rage filling her to a level of which she had never felt before. A primal scream ripped its way out of her. Boethiah put on a cruel smile, starting to throw out a mocking taunt at her adversary, but it never came.

Sable rushed headlong at the goddess. Boethiah barely had time to try to set her defense. But instead of the series of wild strikes the Daedric Prince expected, Sable barreled into Boethiah's legs, taking them out from under the deity. Boethiah came crashing to the ground. The assassin was back up in a flash and leapt atop her divine adversary and began hacking away with her daggers.

Confusion washed over the goddess as no pain came. Her flesh never once felt the bite of the white haired mortal's blades. Boethiah pushed it away for the moment, however, and quickly shrugged the assassin off of her and regained her feet. As she did, the armor plating protecting her chest and back sagged pitifully, not quite falling off of her completely.

"There," Sable said in between gasps for air, "Now that I've got you out of all that armor, it should be a lot easier to gut you."

"Well done, mouse," Boethiah sarcastically congratulated, ripping the armor the rest of the way off, "But I think you'll still find the lion too much for you."

The Daedric Lord advanced, swinging the giant axe to and fro in looping strokes, bringing the massive weapon back and forth, side to side, high and low. Sable had seen the strategy before – though it was usually done with light swords. The purpose being to make it so one's opponent could not guess from where the strike would eventually come.

Sable cast her gaze to her opponent's feet. She knew – thanks to Veezara's tutelage – that whichever foot the deity planted her weight on would betray the direction of the axe swing. One step more and Boethiah would have to make her decision.

At the top of the loop, the goddess planted with her left foot, bringing the axe down swiftly in a chop that would split the troublesome mortal in two.

Sable spun away to her right and Bothiah's cut missed her completely. Sable went low with her spin and kicked with all her might into the back of the Daedric Lord's right knee. With most of her weight supported by her left leg, Boethiah couldn't help going down to one knee. Sable, then popped up and jammed the dagger with the paralysis enchantment into the goddess' back and ripped it back out.

With that done, Sable paid the deity no more attention, but rather dashed over to Sionis. Kneeling down, she ripped the glove from her right hand and thrust it down in front of his face. She nearly cried out when she felt his breath gently curl over and around her fingers. She rolled him to his back and reached for a healing potion from leg pocket.

"Come . . . back . . . here."

Sable nearly dropped the precious vial in shock at hearing Boethiah's voice. She looked back and saw the goddess moving slowly towards her.

"How in Oblivion . . ." she muttered. It seemed that the enchantment on her green shimmering dagger was not powerful enough to actually paralyze the Daedric Prince. But it was certainly having an effect. Boethiah was still fully ambulatory, but her movement was sluggish; almost like trying to run underwater.

Sable didn't know whether to praise the Divines, or curse them all to the void. The fact that she still had to fight the Daedric Lord made her feel so weary that she wanted to just lie down and let the goddess take her, but it also tipped the unfair fight solely in her favor. And she so loved an unfair fight when she held the advantage.

With a sigh, she replaced the healing potion in her pocket and stood to face Boethiah yet again. The goddess's movement were growing faster by the second, making it clear that the paralysis effect was wearing off.

Sable rushed back towards the deity. Boethiah's movements were still slowed slightly, but unfortunately, she couldn't take advantage of it. She had to get the Daedric Prince away from Sionis. Knocking the slow moving strike from Boethiah's axe aside, Sable stabbed the life stealing dagger into Boethiah's right wrist again. Once again disarming her opponent and getting some much needed relief snaking its way into her tired, burning muscles.

She then moved around the goddess and stabbed her again in the back with the vitality drinking blade, again feeling the revitalizing enchantment creep into her. She struck once more before backing off a fair distance from the deity.

The only move left now was to wait that last second or two for the paralysis effect to fully wear off and have the goddess come after her again. The last second seemed to take at least five minutes, but it finally happened and Boethiah shrugged off the enchantment, grabbed up the axe, and came roaring at her.

Sable let the raging deity get as close as she dared before she whipped the paralysis inducing dagger at her divine opponent. It spun through the air and embedded itself firmly in the Boethiah's head. Boethiah instantly fell to the ground.

Sable scampered over to Sionis and grabbed out the healing potion. After ripping the cork from the bottle with her teeth, she lifted her love's head up and hurriedly poured the contents of the bottle into his mouth. A quick look over her shoulder signaled it was time to get ready to resume the fight. Boethiah was slowly getting to her feet. Hoping he wouldn't choke on the life-saving liquid, she laid Sionis' head back down and turned to face the Daedric Lord yet again.

The assassin rushed her divine opponent. Boethiah, now on one knee, looked up as Sable approached and attempted to raise an arm to ward off the attack. But with the accursed blade still working its lethargic enchantment upon her, she was too slow.

Sable showed no mercy, kicking the arm away and slashing at the goddess' eyes, then reaching up and wrenching her other dagger from Boethiah's head.

The Daedric Lord's face sluggishly twisted itself into a howl of pain and rage as the arm made its way back to cover her wounded face and eyes.

The actual scream came a moment later, and if she wasn't so tired and done with the whole affair, Sable might have found it comical. Instead she struck at Boethiah again and again, each strike from the daggers renewing the torpidity of her opponent as well as restoring her vigor to keep fighting.

Boethiah was flailing in vain attempts to block any of the strikes. Her languid movements were easily shoved aside, however, and the slashes and stabs just kept coming and her blood just kept flowing freely.

Sable was reveling in the idea that she had beaten a god. It was only a matter of time until Boethiah would succumb to the injuries and loss of blood, and when she died, the assassin would be a legend. The Dark Brotherhood would be feared throughout all of Tamriel and let everyone, even The Divines, take notice. She was so caught up in the rush of killing the Daedric Lord that she failed to notice that Boethiah's movements were starting to get faster. Though she struck with the paralysis dagger, it was no longer inflicting its effect upon the goddess.

Suddenly, Boethiah's left hand caught Sable's right. Sable froze. She stared at the enchanted dagger in her caught hand in shock and betrayal.

"It looks as though the enchantment on your pretty knife as run out," the Daedric Prince said gleefully. "And since it appears to have no further use to you. . ."

There was a loud crack and Sable screamed as Boethiah snapped her wrist. The dagger fell to the ground. The goddess rose and stood, still holding Sable's broken wrist. Sable gaze now turned to Boethiah's heavily damaged face. Despite the eyes being slashed and their fluids leaking down her face, the Daedric Lord seemed to be looking her right in her eyes. Combined with all of the lacerations from Sable's assault, it made for a terrifying visage and the assassin remain petrified in its malevolent gaze.

With a menacing smile, Boethiah reached down to her boot and pulled a long knife from it. Sable was snapped from her stupor from the icy cold pain of that knife being shoved into her side.

"Any last words, mortal?" Boethiah gloated.

"I. . . will. . . kill. . . you," Sable said through clenched teeth. And with that, she brought the dagger in her right hand and jammed it into the base of the goddess' neck. The enchantment on that one was still active and Sable drank in the vitality it imparted to her.

Boethiah roared and let go of the assassin's broken hand, punched her, and then grabbed her around chest. The Daedric Lord lifted Sable from the ground and began squeezing her with tremendous strength.

A moment later, a sharp pop sounded as one of Sable's ribs cracked under the pressure. Sable shrieked at the pain. Instantly Boethiah squeezed tighter, cutting off her ability to take air back in. There was another pop as another rib gave way. Then another. And another. Sable's vision was beginning to blur.

"Foolish, puny mortal!" Boethiah taunted. "How ridiculous to think you could defeat me. When I'm done with you, I will move on to your mage friend. I will strip the very flesh from his bones. He will curse your name before I am done with him. He will beg me to kill him."

Another rib cracked, but Sable didn't feel the pain this time. At the mention of Sionis falling under Boethiah's tortures, a seething rage flooded through her, bringing murderous resolve with it. Despite barely being able to see or draw breath, Sable found the dagger still sticking out of Boethiah's neck. She ripped it out of the goddess' clavicle and brought it back down again and again. She didn't know where she was stabbing the Oblivion-spawned whore, but she didn't care. She just stabbed and stabbed again and again. She held no doubt that she would not survive her encounter with the Daedric Lord, but she was bringing Boethiah to the Void with her.

She no longer felt the small bursts of vitality coursing into her with each strike. Whether it was because she was too far gone or if that dagger had betrayed her as well, she didn't know. She didn't care. All that mattered was stabbing Boethiah has many times as she could before she died.

Suddenly the grip around her loosened and she fell to the ground. On instinct, she sucked in a breath as deeply as she could. Pain exploded through her chest and her vision went black for a moment. For several seconds, she lay there convulsing as her body forced air into her only to have it swallowed by the pain. When they finally subsided and her lungs relinquished control back to her, Sable opened her eyes to see Boethiah lying there next to her. They were face to face.

"Impossible. . ." the Daedric Prince breathed raggedly and then went still.

Sable smiled and closed her eyes. And for a moment it almost seemed as if the pain was gone and none of it had really happened. But she had done it. She had killed a god. She realized that she would die and that, ultimately, Arkay had won, but she smiled anyway. Let him have this small victory. She would haunt him from the Void forever.

The giggle forced its way out but was soon smothered by a violent, burning cough. Her eyes snapped open as she tried in vain to moan and scream through the fit. When it finally and mercifully came to end, she found that she was now looking up into the sky and that her face was wet. That was odd. Had she spilled something?

Her contemplations about the wetness on her face was broken by a moan coming from somewhere above her.

"Si. . . Si. . ." was all she managed for more coughing seized her.

"Sable?" It was Sionis voice. "Sable!"

He appeared in her vision then, his face full of fear and concern.

"Si-Sion. . . Sionis," she gasped, before coughing again.

He tried to shush her.

"I k. . . ki. . . killed. . . h-her," she rasped. "I. . . I . . . did it."

And then, she closed her eyes and said no more.

* * *

 

"Sable," Sionis said, cupping her blood covered face in his hand. "Sable? Sable! Sable! NO!"

Sioins's hands lit up with the golden light of healing magic. He poured it into her with all the strength he had. He knew only the most basic of healing spells, but he hoped that with his abilities now augmented by Mephala's gifting, it would be enough.

He kept it up until he could no longer hold on to his connection to Aetherius. Just as he stopped, a violent cough ripped through her and blood spewed out of her mouth, but her eyes did not open.

It was then that he noticed that Boethiah's corpse still lay there on the ground. He was not an expert on Oblivion or Daedric Lords, but he knew that upon his death, Boethiah should have vanished back to his plane of Oblivion, banished for 100 years. But that hadn't happened. Boethiah still lay on the mortal plane stone dead.

He looked back down at Sable and her last words flashed back through his mind. _I killed her. I did it._

"By the Divines, Sable," he muttered with astonishment, "What exactly have you done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue will follow shortly. Either later today or tomorrow. Stay tuned.


	32. Epilogue

_Welcome, my child._

Sable's eyes snapped open but there was nothing. She could see nothing, feel nothing; there was not even any light.

"Hello?"

_I am here, my child. I am always with you._

"Who are you?"

_You do not recognize the voice of your Father?_

"Sithis!?"

* * *

The golden light went out again and Sionis nearly collapsed with fatigue. He hadn't slept since the night before. Or maybe it was two nights ago; he wasn't sure anymore. He had stayed crouched by Sable, pouring healing magic into her whenever he could feel even the slightest connection with Aetherius. And still her eyes remained closed and her breathing remained slow, ragged, and shallow.

His every moment was spent in either attempting to heal the woman he loved or contemplating whether or not she had actually killed a Daedric Lord and what the implications of that might be. Boethiah's body still had not de-materialized. It still lay nearby, cold and unmoving.

What, exactly, would be the consequences if Boethiah was actually dead and there was no more Daedric Prince of Deception? What would happen when people started hearing of it? Would they even believe it? Would there be more contracts taken out on Daedric Lords by people spited or spurned by them? And would someone try for a hit on one of the Divines?

He found he really didn't care if it meant she would die. He didn't care about anything in this world if it meant he had to live in it without Sable. First Clairiss and now Sable. The despair was threatening to crush him when, suddenly, he felt that spark within him.

Sionis pushed all the thoughts from his mind and evoked healing magic back into her. It only lasted a few seconds and then it was gone again and his head swam.

"Is she alive?"

A woman's voice startled him and he looked up to see two Dunmer and two children at the far end of the platform at the top of stairs. A moment later is vision cleared and he realized that there were only one of each and that they were both wearing red and black robes, black hand emblazoned on the chests.

"What did you do to her!" The child screamed at him.

* * *

_You have done well, my child. This kill will bring me untold glory. As well as the Dark Brotherhood._

She remembered then her fight with Boethiah and how it had ended. Both of them lying on the cold stone, Boethiah dead and herself dying.

"Am I dead?"

_Not yet._

"Yet?" Sable asked, "So I am dying?"

_Perhaps. The mage is working tirelessly to save you, though he has not the strength and your life is still ebbing away._

"So I am going to die?"

_Of course. All eventually come to me._

Sable couldn't help rolling her eyes. "I meant right now."

_And if I so desire your soul now, would it trouble you?_

"Yes." She said immediately, "Yes, it would. I don't want to die."

_You may have chosen a poor line of work then, if you wanted to live a long life._

She nearly had to bite her tongue off to keep from cursing the Dread Father then and there. She figured it probably wouldn't be a good idea to do so while standing in his presence. She took a breath and composed herself before finally answering.

"I didn't say I wanted to live a long life. I said I don't want to die," she said. "Living a long life implies that I would eventually die. I don't want to die. Not now. Not ever."

_Ah, but you are mortal. It is impossible for you to live forever. You must know that._

"Then I will find a way to become immortal!" She snapped. "I'll kill as many gods as I need to. I'll kill Arkay himself!"

_Would you really?_

"Yes!" Sable answered without a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "I've done it once. I can do it again."

_And that, my child, is what makes you special._

* * *

"She still lives, Babette," the Dunmer said. "Don't kill him just yet."

The child stared daggers at Sionis. "If she dies," she said coldly and with a deadly fire dancing in her eyes, "so do you."

He believed her. While he had no idea how the little girl would actually manage to do that against him, there was, somehow, no doubt in his mind that she would do it.

"What is this?" the Dunmer asked, indicating the other body.

"Boethiah." He answered simply, too numb from the pain and fear of losing his beloved assassin to answer any differently.

"It can't actually be Boethiah," the dark elf chastised. "Any Daedric being would be banished back to their plane of Oblivion if they were somehow 'killed' while in the mortal realm."

"I know that," Sionis answered a bit sharply. "I'm no expert in Conjuration, but every mage knows the simple rules behind daedric habitation of Mundus."

"Then who is this?"

"It's Boethiah!" he nearly shouted.

"It can't be. This is not possible." The fact that the Dunmer remained calm in her condescendence nearly pushed him to try his connection to Aetherius.

"I know that!" He snapped furiously trying to stand up to let her have it to her face. Dizziness washed over him over and he fell back to sitting.

"I know it shouldn't be possible," he started over with calm reigning again. "But that is, or was rather, Boethiah, The Daedric Prince of Lies. I was here. I watched Sable summon him, they fought, and Sable killed him and he never vanished. I don't know how it's possible, but I believe she actually managed to really kill Boethiah."

"By Sithis," the dark elf breathed, her eyes opening wide.

"Gabriella, can we focus on Sable please," the child called out with worry in her voice. "She's barely breathing. She needs help."

Gabriella, snapped from her ruminations and knelt down by Sable. Her hands lit up with the golden glow of healing magic. She closed her eyes and placed her hand upon the white-haired assassin. A few moments later, her eyes snapped open.

"By Sithis, how has she lived this long?" There was a horrified look on her face.

"I've been healing her as much as I could," Sionis offered, "though I don't know much about Restoration."

"Nearly every rib is broken. Her lungs have been punctured multiple times and some of her organs are severely damaged," Gabriella explained. "How long has she been like this?"

"How could you tell all that?" He asked, amazed.

"I am an expert in Restoration. I've probably been practicing at it for longer than you've been alive." She explained with no small amount of exasperation. "Now, how long has she been like this?"

"I'm not sure," Sionis shrugged apologetically. "I haven't slept since I found her like this. I've just been healing her whenever I've been able to. I think it was yesterday afternoon when last she had her eyes open."

"You must know a lot more about healing magic then you think," the Dunmer finally said after the confusion left her face.

"I really don't," Sionis confirmed. "I'll explain later. Let's just try to save her."

Gabriella nodded and brought the golden glowing magic to her hands again. This time it flared to an intensity that hurt his eyes. The dark elf pushed it into Sable and he hoped that this Restoration master would be able to bring his love back from the brink of death.

* * *

"I'm special?"

_Indeed you are. Not only is your skill sufficient, but you have the drive and ambition to carry out my will. You will leave your mark on not only those around you, but on the history of Nirn as well._

Sable felt the sting behind her eyes that threatened tears. She would be remembered. She would be a legend throughout all of Tamriel and, in that way, live forever. She held back from crying and in that moment felt closer to Sithis than she ever had. Astrid and the rest of the Family spoke of him, but it was clear that they didn't truly believe in him or follow him. She knew now that they were mistaken. He was true and she would serve him in the afterlife for the rest of eternity.

"Thank you, my Dread Father."

_No, my child. I thank you. You have done something that will impact this world forever and it was done in my name. And it must continue._

"How?" Sable asked almost out of breath. "Can I help bring it about?"

_Oh yes, my child. You will be instrumental. I will give life back to you and you will continue on as one of my most devout. You will build within the Dark Brotherhood a group of assassins that even the Aedra will fear. You shall be as a high priestess to them and will give all of creation over to the Void._

"Yes Sithis, it shall be done." Sable said reverently and sincerely. "I will start immediately."

_Not immediately my child. The Family is, unfortunately, not ready for this yet. There are events that must take place and those that must be culled._

"As you wish, Dread Father. When shall I start?"

_I will tell you. In the meantime, seek out your Mother. When found, she will speak to you and you will Listen._

"Yes, Father."

_Go, my White Deathbell, and with one last gift I give you._

* * *

"This isn't working!" Babette cried. "Both you and the mage have been at this for nearly a day and she hasn't gotten any better."

"I'm trying, Babette," Gabriella said wearily. "Both of us are exhausted."

"Couldn't we please try the healing potions?" the child begged. It was not the first time she had asked about them since having discovered a number of them on Sable's person.

"No!" Sionis cut in sharply before regaining his composure. "If her lungs are still torn as Gabriella suggests, then the potions will just drown her."

"Shut your mouth or I'll rip it off!" Babette threatened.

"He's right, Babette," Gabriella soothed. "You know how thick and viscous most healing potions are. They would likely cut off her ability to breathe and kill her before they could do any good. We are doing the best we can."

"It's not good enough!"

"No, it's not," Gabriella agreed. "I'm afraid that the healing magic is tearing her lungs further as it attempts to pull her ribs to their proper place. That in turn causes her to bleed into lungs even more."

"Then he's dead!" Babette's voice dripped hatred as she stood and turned to the mage.

Before she could even take her first step, a violent cough ripped out of Sable, followed by a tremendous amount of blood. Immediately after, she started convulsing.

"She's dying!" Gabriella shrieked. "Sionis, quickly. Help me with whatever you've got left."

Both mages fell upon the thrashing assassin, their hands bathed in golden light. Sionis' light went out first and he slumped to the side, barely able to keep upright. A few minutes later Gabriella tired out as well.

The convulsions had slowed, but still not stopped.

"It wasn't enough!" Babette cried, "She's going to die anyway! There must be something else we can do."

Babette's eyes went wide as an idea hit. Without warning, she threw herself upon her friend and sank her teeth into Sable's neck.

"What is she. . ." Sionis' question trailed off as he remembered what the child was and realized what she was doing. He looked upon the scene horrified, but too tired to do anything about it.

A moment later, Babette came off of a now unmoving Sable with blood dribbling down her chin.

"Babette," Gabriella started stunned at what she had just witnessed, "What did you do?"

"Saved her, I hope," Babette answered a bit forlornly.

"But, doesn't the disease take a few days to run its course?"

"Yes," the un-child's voice was full of melancholy.

They all watched the white-haired assassin as if expecting some miracle to happen. Instead they saw her breathe her last breath and her chest finally go still.

It was dead silent for a long moment before it was finally broken by a pitiful wail erupting from Sionis.

"Noooooo!" And he broke down into sobbing.

Babette rounded on him. "You're dead," she promised. "I'm going to kill you."

"Go ahead," Sionis answered, "I deserve it."

"Oh, you bet you do."

"Babette, wait!" Gabriella broke in.

"What!?" the vampire snapped tired of being delayed in her vengeance.

"I swear I just saw her move." Gabriella implored. "Look!"

"You're just seeing . . ."

"I swear by Sithis I just saw her move."

Silence reigned again as they all stopped to watch. Nothing happened. No movement. Babette sighed and regained her menacing glare towards Sionis. But just as she was about to move, Sable laughed and once again all attention was turned her way.

She laughed again. It was a joyous giggle that somehow chilled them all to the bone. Then, the White Deathbell smiled and opened her fiery golden eyes.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finished! This has been quite the ride for me and I loved writing this story. I hope you all have enjoyed reading it. Sable is not done yet though. Obviously there are a number of loose ends that still need to be addressed. I'm currently working on outlining the next book and will start writing on that soon. In the meantime, I have a short (perhaps one-shot) piece about Mala Aran Naga and his falling into Boethiah's clutches coming. Thanks again to everyone that has read, given kudos, followed, and/or reviewed.
> 
> \- E. K.


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